


Red Shoes

by WackyGoofball



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cersei sucks, F/M, First try at modern AU!, Fluff, Hyle is a jerk in this one, JB Appreciation Week 2015 yay!, Jaime/Brienne Appreciation Week, Modern Fairytale-ish, OOC-ish, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, blind date gone wrong, oblivious!Brienne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 03:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4945030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WackyGoofball/pseuds/WackyGoofball
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A late JB Week 2015 Day 2: Red tribute that I only finished today, apologies! </p><p>Brienne goes on a blind date, but things don't work out as she had them planned. </p><p>She then runs into a very handsome, blond man who sweeps her off her feet. </p><p>More complications. </p><p>And it all started with a pair of red shoes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red Shoes

**Author's Note:**

> This is another red-fic for the challenge. I only got it wrapped up today, but I still wanted to post it, even if the day is green already!!!!
> 
> I never wrote something like that before (aka modern AU), but it just popped into my head, so I had to write it down. 
> 
> I still hope you'll enjoy it ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne goes on a blind date. 
> 
> Nothing goes as she had it planned. 
> 
> Some awful things happen. 
> 
> But then she stumbles -and someone catches her. 
> 
> Can you guess who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lady_Blade_WarAngel was so kind to provide this wonderful title picture <3
> 
> The Red Challenge just wouldn't let me go, which is why another fic had to come out of the Realm of Crimson. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it ;)

Brienne sits at a wooden table in some small restaurant downtown, nestling her clothes.

Why did she have to go with this short dress?

Brienne doesn’t feel comfortable in women’s wear anyways. She usually wears trousers with pride, and with her broad shoulders, she ends up buying blouses in the men’s department more often than she’d like to admit to anyone else.

But no, tonight she decided to wear this dark navy blue satin dress with a tight bodice, hugging her flat chest that looks only slightly fuller thanks to the one push-up bra she owns, and broad, rectangular straps, way too much cleavage to her liking, and a rather tightly fitting balloon skirt that only reaches up to half her thighs.

She will curse Margaery to the end of her days for giving her such a dress as a birthday gift, telling her that it looks _fantastic_ on her. Only the Gods will know how she guessed her size so correctly – because Brienne never tried it on… until tonight.

But Brienne hates this dress because she feels exposed in it. People see her mannish body. Her broad shoulders, her flat chest, her way too long, way too fleshy legs, and her muscular arms. While she actually likes her muscles, that’s what she does so much workout for after all, Brienne knows that men are apparently irritated by a too-trained girl who thus has no longer the typically soft curves of a woman.

Yet, here she sits, in that navy blue dress she vows to burn one day, and those godforsaken red shoes that give her blisters just thinking about them when she stood in front of her wardrobe to get ready for the evening. These weren’t a gift from Margaery, _no_ , Brienne brought those shoes of evil herself one time when Margaery, she really always has her hands in that in one way or the other, forced her to come along with the ladies.

Just that Brienne is anything but a lady.

And by no means one of the shopaholics Margaery gathered about herself, and is one herself with utmost pride. Brienne only roughly remembers the day, and that she trotted after the entourage of women as they pointed fingers at this dress, and that skirt, and these necklaces, and those seemingly orgasmic hairclips, judging by the way this one girl whose name she can’t remember cried out at the sight of the hairclips.

Not that Brienne would ever dare say what orgasmic is. While she has been in relationships before, it never came to _it_. Back in High School, there were a few of the football team who had made it a challenge about who’d take her virginity first, which resulted in a fake battle about her affection, though she found out soon enough that they just wanted to get inside Big Brienne, after she had made herself so rare.

That was when Brienne decided not to have sex until she’d find herself someone who cared about her… which is why she is long since out of school, long since out of college, and long since settled into her job – and still a virgin.

It’s nothing she is particularly ashamed or proud of, to Brienne, it was simply the right choice.

Brienne shifts in her seat, her feet aching at the movement. Oh right, the red stilettos she bought back during that shopping trip. It was really just to make Margaery and the others shut up, after all gave her this almost sympathetic look after she hadn’t bought anything for herself after three hours of Shopping Hell. The shoe store was the last in the street, and Brienne hoped that if she bought something, the women would give in and let her back home. So she brought herself to ask one of the saleswomen very awkwardly if they had any shoes her size. And Brienne wanted to die when the woman tapped her index finger against her chin, contemplating whether they had some giant shoes in store, but at last she brought the one pair they had indeed.

And that is how she ended up with the way too expensive, way too tight, way too red shoes.

And now she decided to wear them again, for the blind date she is on.

Brienne is big into chatting on the internet. She doesn’t have to talk to people face to face, which still tends to irritate her and make her sound like a squealy girl from High School. In fact, she feels a lot more comfortable talking to strangers because she doesn’t have to show them her ugly plank-face. She can talk to them about God and the world, she can say all the truths she doesn’t dare to say aloud in reality, because people wouldn’t take them for the truth, and even if they did, she could always claim them wrong – because they couldn’t read it on her face.

Because Brienne is a bad liar by nature.

When chatting, she even has enough confidence to flirt a bit. Emoticons are amazing. It’s a way of effectively using facial expressions without having to bother to make them yourself, or end up making the wrong face at the wrong time, as she does. A lot.

There was one guy who really seemed nice. She chatted a few hours with him.

SerDeerhunter27.

Stupid name.

Though BlueEyes25 is by no means any better. Brienne wanted to go with WarriorWoman at first, but feared that it would scare off men once more.

Because she wants to be close to somebody.

She is very lonely.

Except for Margaery and Renly… and Loras, though she only likes him for Renly’s sake, she has no friends. Her father is far away, after she went to live in the city for the sake of her job.

If she wasn’t lonely, Brienne wouldn’t be up for a blind date. Her last relationship lies so far back already that she can’t remember when she was last kissed.

Not that she misses the guy. He turned out a cheater shortly after they got together. Breaking his nose was a lot more satisfactory than Brienne would like to admit.

So yes, she is on this blind date in a bloody sexy dress that feels alien on her, because she feels anything but sexy, in those shit red shoes, sipping water with a lemon slice, since Brienne doesn’t like to drink out of the fear to lose control, the side of her head burning because she burned herself with the hair straightener she usually never uses, for good reason. She keeps her hair short so that she doesn’t have to style it much. Usually, she uses gel at best, but tonight she wanted to look a bit _better_ , let’s say, so she styled her hair and even put on make-up, needless to mention that she stabbed herself in the eye with the mascara brush at least two times, and had to rub off her lipstick at least five times because she always drew over the edges of her broad lips.

SerDeerhunter27 was really nice. He seemed interested in the same things like she. He said he tried out archery when still younger. Brienne still actively works on those skills. She has a fable for medieval things, which is why she also has a collection of medieval swords and other weapons. And it didn’t seem to put him off. In fact he seemed even interested.

So maybe this will be one of those moments from the chick movies Margaery likes so much.

They arranged to meet in this restaurant downtown at eight o’clock. She brought a small toy knight, as the symbol of recognition. He is supposed to come along with a rose, or so he said.

Brienne had to swallow thickly when she read that. Roses are her most hated plants, after Ronnet Connington had tossed a red rose to her feet after she refused yet again to have sex with him after they had their fourth date. That was a breakup she never regretted, even though it earned her many tears.

However, her secret date can’t know, so she will ignore the rose and simply hope that the man is as nice as he appeared in the chat.

Brienne checks her watch again.

Nine o’clock. She texted him a few times by now, but no reply yet. She just hopes that he got stuck in the traffic, and didn’t chicken out at the last second.

If only she wasn’t that desperate for physical contact. If only it was enough for her to stay in the realm of the internet, where you are safe from roses on the ground and people making bets about who’d get to take your virginity first, or deciding to turn prom into a living nightmare by making you the joke of the festivity by leaving the ugly duckling under the impression that everyone wanted to dance with her, when in fact no one wanted to, and only wanted to see her tears.

To the day, she feels indebted to Renly for grabbing her, dancing with her, and telling her not to let the nasty little shits see her tears. That was before he had his coming out with Loras, and Margaery was still his girlfriend, though both kept it up for Renly’s sake, until he felt confident enough to make it public. Brienne always admired Margaery for how supportive she had been of him, and that they are still the best friends.

The door opens and Brienne’s sapphire blue eyes spark in anticipation, hoping for a young, gallant man to come over to her with rose in hand, and in fact a hunky man comes inside, with a flower in his palm.

But the closer he comes, the more recognition dawns on her.

“Hyle?!”

He was one of the guys who made bets about taking her virginity. What is he doing here? She only saw him in college for a year, before he dropped out. Why is he here?

He can’t be… oh Gods, no.

Not again.

“Blue Eyes, it’s been such a long time,” he grins at her as he settles down.

“Please tell me that this is not what I think it is,” she breathes, her whole body tensing up.

Please, she made something out of herself. She went to college, has a job.

She thought High School was finally over.

“You seriously chatted with me all this time for this scene here?” she manages to say.

“To tell the truth, I lost a bet,” Hyle says with a grimace, nodding to the bar. Brienne tears around. In one of the cubicles she can hear laughter.

Please no.

“The guys and I still hang around. And as I said, I lost a bet,” Hyle says. “I couldn’t say no.”

“Just that you did,” she breathes, gathering her purse with clumsy hands, her body shaking, revolting against the pain spreading throughout her.

“Brienne, please, it was just a mean joke,” he argues, seeing the tears in her eyes.

But Brienne doesn’t care if it is a joke or a trick or anything, she just has to get out of here and shred the dress, shred the shoes, everything. She almost stumbles thanks to the godforsaken stilettos – and out of reflex, Hyle seemingly wants to catch her arm, but Brienne snaps his hand away, “You touch me once, and that hand won’t touch anything ever again.”

“Brienne, please, I didn’t mean it like that, I was just…,” he tries once more, but before she knows what is happening, she hooked her foot under his chair and tilts it over with one might kick to send him crashing to the ground. The other men she surely all knows from High School howl in the cubicle, but Brienne feels too hurt to care about their faces. She hurries out of the restaurant, tears clouding her vision.

She is still the same silly girl she was back in High School. No matter how much she works out, no matter how well she is in her job. She will always be Brienne the Beauty.

Just that she isn’t a beauty.

Brienne just wants to run home to her apartment, clumsily rushing over the pavement. She wants to flag down a taxi, standing at the edge of the sidewalk, but as she leans forward, her stupid stiletto decides to move on its own, she slips, the heel landing right between the metal bars of a drain.

This shoes will be her death.

Brienne lets out a shriek as she tumbles, starting to fall forward towards the busy street, and for the briefest of moments Brienne is tempted to say to herself, “So be it”, but that is when she is suddenly pulled back by two arms. She already prepares for pain to explode in her arse for landing on the pavement, but the arms hold her upright and pull her away from the street, only to nudge her forward so she comes to stand upright, the red stiletto still stuck in the drain, leaving her standing on one high-heeled foot.

“Easy there,” a man’s voice rings out. Brienne blinks as the hands wander to press against her shoulders and a man like cut out of a magazine comes into view. Golden hair, shining eyes, flawless skin.

Maybe she got run over by a car after all, and is on her way to the Heavens at last.

“Are you alright?” he asks her, a loose strand falling into his eyes, which seem… concerned.

“Jaime? What is it?” another voice rings out.

“The lady almost got killed by falling face first out into the street,” the man, _Jaime_ , calls over his shoulder.

“Having a heroic moment again, are we?” a dwarfish man says. Brienne still looks at the two dazed. Jaime’s eyes tear back around to her, “Well?”

“Should I call an ambulance?” the smaller man asks, now also sounding concerned.

“Should we?” Jaime asks, looking at her again.

“No, no, I… I am fine. I am sorry, I…,” Brienne mutters, the air catching in her throat. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he winks at her. “I have a tendency to rescue fair maidens.”

“Tyrion, can you get her shoe from over there?” Jaime asks, nodding at the red stiletto still sticking out of the drain. The smaller man nods wordlessly, gathering the vicious footwear to place next to her foot, “There you go.”

“Thank you,” she mumbles again, her voice trembling.

“And you’re sure you’re alright?” Jaime asks again, searching her eyes.

“Yes, I… uhm, I just stumbled, that’s all,” she says as she forces her bare foot into the red shoe, only to bend down with a cry, pain exploding in her ankle. She must have twisted it the wrong way either while falling or when Jaime pulled her back around. That is the problem when you train so much and fall so many times. Brienne’s ligaments have been stretched and sprained and torn that it takes just one wrong move for the red fire to explode in her ankle.

“She’s like you. You never admit it when you break something either,” Tyrion remarks. Jaime grimaces as he bends down next to her.

“Maybe we should bring you to hospital after all,” Jaime offers a sympathetic smile.

“I have that all the time. I just need to cool it,” Brienne manages to say and straightens back up, setting her jaw in a straight line.

“Ah, a brave one,” Tyrion chuckles softly.

“I’ll just take a taxi home, thank you very much for, for everything,” Brienne shakes her head, stumbling over to the edge again, hoping that a taxi will instantly pop up and take her away from the shame and the glow on her cheeks.

Why does she have to stumble into a real-life version of Prince Charming when she is a tear-stained klutz who just received yet another humiliation for the rest of her life?

But that is when he is right next to her, raising his arm, and for some reason, a taxi seems to fall from the sky only once he raises his hand.

“Thank you, again,” she mutters. And she wants to cry out when he even holds the car door open for her.

This all seems so wrong.

Jaime looks back to his brother, who shakes his head with a sigh.

“You and your puppy eyes shall be damned,” Tyrion grunts. “Fine, have fun. You’ll pay my drinks, though.”

Brienne grimaces, but then realises that Jaime actually gets in the car with her, only stating, “Someone’s got to make sure that you arrive home safely. You seem to be a bit shaken through tonight. And in any case, I want to make sure that the maiden I rescued arrives back in her castle.”

Brienne simply gives the driver her address, trying to sink into the seat the best she can, though she wants to howl in pain as her too long legs don’t have enough space in the damned taxi, and she can’t ease her foot somewhere.

This is torture.

Just as it is to have this Adonis next to her, when she is only a mess.

“Oh, yes, I forgot to properly introduce myself. The name’s Jaime Lannister. The other man was Tyrion, my younger brother. So may I know the identity of the maiden I saved, too?” he says after a moment of silence.

“Brienne of Tarth,” she replies.

“ _Of_ Tarth? Does that mean I really rescued a blue blood?” Jaime looks at her.

“No, I mean, in a way, yes, but we are not rich or anything. Our fore-fore-fore-fore-fathers and mothers were royals for all I know. It’s just the name, really,” Brienne says.

“What do you do for a living?” Jaime goes on to ask.

“I, uhm… I work in the merchandise department of a company,” she replies. “And you?”

“I am being prepared to take over the Lannister Empire. We have a huge firm that does… _something_. I just know that I am the pretty face they use to sell whatever we sell, or ship whatever we ship. Tyrion is the one who handles everything for real. I am just the company’s face, upon our father’s insistence,” Jaime replies.

Brienne tilts her head. Why is he so openly telling her these things?

“And what do you do during your free time?” Jaime goes on.

“I… uhm, kickboxing and archery and collecting some things,” she says.

“Seriously? I never met a woman who was into archery and kickboxing,” Jaime smiles. “In fact, I always thought I was the only one who’d be into archery, at least around the area. Though I go with the simple longbow, you know, out of wood, not those robot-like things.”

And Gods, his smile could blind people.

“Me, too,” she replies. “I have a longbow from the medieval times, though that is just for display, of course.”

“Really?! I have a crossbow from the good old days,” Jaime grins, suddenly very excited. “Now don’t say you collect medieval weapons.”

“I do,” she shrugs. “I got a few things from my father, you know, from the fore-fore-fore-fore-fathers.”

“That might possibly the hottest thing someone’s ever said to me,” Jaime grins, and Brienne has to take a few deep breaths to calm herself.

 _What_?

“I have one, too, a longbow, I mean, and in fact I have a few relicts from my family as well, but I always get the stares from Tyrion and my sister that I keep these things for display,” Jaime goes on. “I even took courses to wield a sword and all. That was amazing. You should try it.”

“I already did,” she replies. “I’m member of a club where we do that on a regular basis.”

Why is she telling him this?

And why does he bother to ask?

What is this here?

“ _What_? And I didn’t hear of that thing?! I shall be damned,” Jaime leans his head back.

Brienne frowns.

What is this man up to?

Or is this another joke at her expense by any chance?

Please no.

“May I ask why you’ve been crying?” he suddenly asks in a mute voice.

What is it to him?

What is it to anyone?

“Just a… bad joke at my expenses that I took a bit too seriously,” Brienne blurts out, running her palm over her eyes.

“What bad joke?” he keeps asking.

Why does he, though?

“Let’s just say that blind dates are a good opportunity for former High School bullies to get back at you one last time,” she exhales, but then covers her mouth.

Gods, she can’t just say that to a complete stranger!

“Some people just never grow out of their children’s shoes,” Jaime wrinkles his nose. “Or are seemingly just idiotic by nature. But wait… blind date?”

“I went on a blind date, it turned out to be someone I knew back from High School, who’s played a trick on me before, and now he said he lost a bet, which is why he was supposed to get me into a blind date to make a fool of myself. And he and his friends managed outright,” Brienne blurts out again. This time she slaps her mouth.

Just when does this humiliation end?!

“Oh, that’s nasty,” Jaime grimaces… _sympathetically_.

“I guess I should have known,” she mutters to herself.

“Why?” he frowns at her.

“It’s… nothing,” she purses her lips.

She should have known because she is an ugly, mannish plank after all, but that is nothing she has to let this handsome man know, right? Not that he can’t see it for himself, but she doesn’t have to say it out loud.

“If you don’t say, I will have to guess,” Jaime teases her.

“Look, it’s really kind of you that you do all this here, but you don’t have to bother yourself with my problems,” she argues. “It’s enough that I bother you to get me home.”

“In fact you saved me from playing wingman for my brother yet again. You have no idea how boring it is,” Jaime argues. “He has it a bit harder than most people because of his height, so I have to pave the way for him, pretty much. But since he is a little lusty shit, I end up hooking dozens of women for him.”

Brienne frowns. She reckons that it takes nothing much for him to hook up with someone, though she finds it astonishing in a strange way that he does that for his younger brother.

“So maybe I owe you my thanks,” Jaime grins. “For sparing me yet another night out of hooking up with women I am by no means interested in.”

She blinks at him.

“I rather rescue a lady.”

Brienne tries her best not to take on the crimson of her shoes.

At last the taxi arrives at its destination. Brienne already digs through her purse, but Jaime holds up his hand and pays the man. Brienne’s shoulders drop again.

What is this?

Jaime gets out of the car and holds out his hand to her to help her out. Once she stands on her good foot, he swings her arm over his shoulder to help her walk.

“You don’t have to do that. My apartment’s just over there. I will manage,” she tells him, but Jaime starts to walk, forcing her to walk with him.

“I rescued you, so the least you can do in return is to show me your collection,” he argues. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m no robber or so. I’m rich beyond reason.”

Brienne just lets him pull her along against better judgment. The stairs prove to be a test of her abilities, but she is glad that she is trained enough to manage to hobble up the stairs without unceremoniously falling down, though Jaime still makes sure that she doesn’t, always a steady grip on her.

They make it to her apartment door at last. Brienne fumbles for the keys and opens to hobble inside. Jaime sneaks in behind her like a cat, and closes the door with the heel of his polished shoe. He manoeuvres over to the next-best piece of furniture, which is her Recamier, to help her ease down on it. Brienne kicks off the red shoes at once, ignoring the pain exploding in her ankle as a result. She pulls her legs up to rest on the Recamier. She doesn’t want her foot to swell further, so it might be better to elevate the limb.

Jaime takes a moment to look around, spotting her collection.

“Okay, that collection is marvellous,” he remarks with awe in his voice.

“… Thank you,” she mumbles.

“How long do you collect?” he asks, running his finger along some of the weapons on display, making the metal sing.

“Since I’m fourteen,” she replies.

“Really? I started way later. I was already in my twenties,” he puckers his lips, looking around.

“It’s never too late,” Brienne shrugs.

Well, it’s likely too late for her.

She is ridiculous.

What is this here anyway? Why is he still here?

“Do you have peas?” he then asks.

“What?” she looks at him.

“Peas? Frozen peas? For your foot,” he says, already manoeuvring to the kitchen of the loft, as though it was the most natural thing on earth to hover around her place.

“I, uhm, I can do that myself, I have cooling bags in the…,” Brienne means already trying to get up, but he points a finger at her, “You stay where you are. Cooling bags. I should have guessed that you are better equipped due to the sports you do. Ah, the freezer.”

He starts to dig through the freezer until he brings out a blue cooling bag. He wraps it into one of the kitchen towels he finds there and walks back over to Brienne, whose eyes follow him on every step he takes, as though he’s been in that apartment for all his life. He plops down next to her and simply presses the cooling bag against her foot. Brienne hisses as the cold spreads throughout her, but then wants to jump at the realisation that this stranger is only inches from her.

She still waits for Hyle and the gang to holler on the stairs.

“You should definitely see a doctor about that,” he tells her in a soft voice. “Really, high heels are pretty, but not at all functional.”

“Why are you doing this?” she can’t help but ask.

“Huh?” he frowns at her.

“Why… are you… so kind to me? You don’t have to be, alright?” she tells him. Jaime tilts his head, “You do know what flirting is, right?”

“What?” she looks at him.

“While I didn’t really plan on rescuing a maiden from getting run over by a car, I am more than interested now, especially after you confirmed me in my belief that we are very much alike. I thought I had made that clear by now,” he replies.

Interested?

In what?

Her?

Sex with her?

Oh, no. _This_ must be it. He wants a reward now, is that it?

“So? Will you go on a date with me some time?” he then asks.

“You… you want to date me?!” she can’t help but exclaim. That is absolutely ridiculous. This is too much out of the movies. And Brienne long since gave up on happy endings.

“Hey, you can’t blame me. If you looked only half as sexy in that blue dress and weren’t interested in all those things that are my passion, then just saving you would have been fine, but now you turn out to be one of those unicorns and you blame me for wanting to catch it?” he argues.

Unicorn?!

… Wait, _sexy_?

“Cat’s got your tongue, Blue Eyes?” he winks at her.

And this time it sounds nice.

Blue Eyes.

Like a compliment.

A nickname.

Two words of affection.

“C’mon, I really made an effort. You could at least reward me with a proper reply,” he argues.

“Why would you want to date me? I’m a mess, you got to witness it first hand,” she can’t help but ask instead.

She knows how often she rehearsed for date-conversations with the few men she had, how she tried anything to have things under control so that she didn’t end up as awkwardly as she does. But now she has a man only inches from her, in her apartment, after she was almost run over by a car, after she got tricked by High School bullies into a fake blind date.

That is not at all under control.

This is not at all how it should be, for him. Because that guy could have all the pretty models roaming the streets of the city. And yet, here he is in her loft, telling her those things that leave her blushing like a stupid teenager.

If he had met her on, let’s say a blind date, she may have been able to charm, but how is any of this charming?

“You are a _hot_ mess,” he grins at her. “Now don’t tell me that men don’t queue up for you.”

“They don’t,” Brienne replies. “Why would they?”

“Why would they not?” he retorts. “You still didn’t answer my question, though. Look, this has been odd for me, too. I’m usually the type of a guy who courts a woman the very old-fashioned way, but because of the circumstance of our first meeting, it wouldn’t have been smart to drag you to a club to shake it up a bit, right? So I ask you for a date once you are… ready. Because then I can do what I am good at. And I’m really good at the whole gentleman-thing, believe me. You haven’t seen me in tux yet.”

“I just want to warn you that I’m not at all… ugh… interesting,” she argues.

“Let me be judge of that, princess,” he winks at her. “So? You and I? Date? Old-fashioned? No blind dates or whatever else?”

“… If you want to,” she says before thinking. Because she wants to get lost in his eyes, in the kindness he radiates.

“Since I want to a lot, that is a clear yes,” Jaime chuckles.

“Alright,” she nods.

“Well, I think you should get some sleep. You must be exhausted after all the chaos,” Jaime exhales. He slowly gets up.

“Ah, right, I will leave you my card. Just ring once you find the time,” he says, taking a small card out of his pocket. “I usually don’t do that with girls. I always find that snobbish, but it’s legible. My scrawl can hardly be read. One time I wrote my number down for someone, he didn’t have a chance to reach me because he couldn’t read the number, no matter how hard he tried.”

Brienne twists the card in her fingers, running her fingertips over the edges.

“But don’t forget to call, Blue Eyes. I know where you live. If you don’t call back soon, I will have to climb the tower to see the princess,” he grins at her, but then bends down, two fingers under her chin, to bring his lips on hers. Brienne blinks at him wide-eyed. Jaime pulls away after a few seconds with a slightly feral smirk, “That was my reward for rescuing a fair maiden. So, don’t forget to call.”

And with that he simply disappears.

Brienne runs her fingers over her lips, a small smile spreading over her face.

Maybe the damned red shoes were good for something after all.


	2. Red Bull's Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne gathers all her courage to ask Jaime out on a date.
> 
> Both learn more about each other. 
> 
> Brienne learns something about control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red seemingly is an inspiring color ;) 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it anyway ;)

Brienne wobbles through her apartment. Gladly, her foot wasn’t broken or anything, but it still feels like needles even with the thick bandage around her ankle.

Jaime didn’t leave her mind since.

At some point it’s still too surreal, but she pinched herself hard enough to earn her a bruise to be sure that this is real. She even googled him to be on the safe side that Jaime wasn’t just the product of her imagination.

By the way, he didn’t lie about being rich beyond reason. She heard of the Lannisters before, and that they run a huge firm, but once she saw the annual sales, she had to choke on her coffee. So now she starts to type a text message:

_Hey, this is Brienne. I don’t know if u still remember me, but u said I was supposed to call back. So, hi?_

Send.

Brienne exhales, but only seconds later, she has a text message.

_Nah-ah. You misunderstood. You are supposed to call me._

Brienne makes a face, starting to type again.

_That’s what I just did._

The reply comes even faster this time.

_No, you texted me. Pick up the phone and call me. I told you, I’m old-fashioned._

Brienne sucks her lower lip into her mouth. She hates calling people. The invention of text messages was something that made her cry out in relief. Because she doesn’t know what the person on the other line is doing or what face he has, and that makes her nervous beyond reason.

_I’m waiting._

Brienne stomps her good foot before she dials the number, and waits.

“Blue Eyes! At last you call me back!”

“I, uhm, hi,” she mutters helplessly, feeling like a teenager again, more than tempted to just hang up on him again.

“I already feared you’d forgotten about me,” he mewls theatrically.

“I, uhm, I just… I wanted to ask if you…,” Brienne goes on with her gibberish.

“Yes?” he asks, waiting.

“Do you have time… some time? You said you wanted to go on a date, I mean, that is unless I am just making a fool out of myself for getting it all wrong or so, but…,” Brienne talks fast, but that is when he interrupts her, “Stop, stop, stop. Geez, woman, I made myself clear last time. I’d be glad to go on a date with you. Just tell me when and where. Though I hope it’s something interesting. Restaurants are boring.”

“I thought about the archery range, maybe? I mean, unless you don’t want, then…,” she asks uncertainly.

“One can always rely on you. That sounds perfect. When?” he asks.

“I don’t know, whenever you have time. I reckon you are busier than I,” Brienne shrugs.

“I am never busy. That is the core problem of being a rich boy,” Jaime argues. “That is why we do stupid things all the time.”

“Today?” she asks hesitantly, screwing her eyes shut.

“Ah, that sounds even better. I will pick up at your apartment. An hour from now?” Jaime smiles.

“Alright?” she replies uncertainly.

“And Blue Eyes?” he adds.

“Yes?” she asks.

“If you want to talk to me, talk to me. I don’t like to text. I hate writing in general,” Jaime grins. “Just so that you know.”

“Oh, okay,” she nods.

“Then I will see you in… fifty-nine minutes from now,” Jaime grins. “I’m looking forward to it. But no high heels.”

Brienne swallows thickly.

This seriously just happened.

Well, that is if he turns up after all.

Brienne looks down at herself. Sleeping shirt and hotpants don’t seem to be much of a good idea to wear to a date. She debates with herself for a while, but eventually goes with a white tanktop that fits tighter on her body for underneath, and then a loose navy tanktop above it, coupled with jeans and boots.

Passable enough.

At least she is in clothes that don’t leave her vulnerable like the bloody satin dress did. And that means she has a bit more control again.

Brienne almost jumps out of her skin when she hears a knock on the door. She checks her wristwatch. Five minutes before it would be time. Maybe the mailman after all. Brienne opens the door, to find the smugly smiling Adonis leaning in her doorframe as though he waited for some photographer to take his picture, dressed in a simple ruby V-neck cotton shirt and washed jeans.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt with anything by coming in a bit early,” he winks at her. “I just couldn’t stop myself. So? Ready to shoot some arrows?”

He gestures with his hands, acting as though he was firing arrows in all directions.

“And the much more important question: Do I need to carry you down the stairs?” he goes on teasing her. Brienne swats his hand away, ducking under his arm to walk outside. Jaime chuckles and closes the door, tagging behind her.

“But seriously, is the foot alright?” he asks as they make their way down the stairs.

“I told you, I have that more often than I would like to admit. A bit wobbly, but nothing torn or broken,” she tells him.

“Oh, thank the Gods,” he throws his hands up.

Brienne tilts her head. It’s really nice to have someone ask about her wellbeing other than family and friends. Though Brienne guesses that Jaime will reconsider now that he sees her in bright daylight, without make-up and stupid red stilettos.

“So? Where do we go to? I have a fancy car this time, instead of the stinky taxi,” he winks at her as they make their way outside.

“It’s not far, so we might just as well walk,” she argues.

“ _What_? Hey, you can’t just destroy the game for me. Usually, I show off with my fancy car to impress people,” he pouts.

“Well, I’m not at all into cars. I either walk or take public transportation,” she shrugs. “I mean, I have my driver’s licence, but that’s it.”

“And I thought _I_ was old-fashioned,” he grimaces.

“You are seemingly not the only one,” she shrugs.

“So we will seriously walk all the way?” he asks.

“You can still press the wrong button and abort the mission, you know?” she offers, trying to sound as sarcastic as she can.

“Do you _want_ me to abort the mission?” he makes a face.

“I didn’t say that. I just meant to say that… well, I wouldn’t hold it against you if you did,” she tells him.

Because he is so unreal while she is so real that it hurts her eyes.

“I am stubborn. If I set my mind on something, then I strive for it until I have it,” he tells her, but then inches right behind her so that he is right next to her ear. “And I set my mind on the maiden I rescued.”

Brienne blinks at him, “Well, your decision, then.”

Jaime lets out a good-natured chuckle, tagging next to her as she shows the way.

They make their way to the archery range, and Brienne starts to feel a bit more confident once she finds herself in a place familiar to her. She gathers her things from her locker before she shows her… date… to the actual range.

“So? Will we make this a bit more interesting?” Jaime asks as she prepares her arrows.

“Interesting how?” she frowns.

“A game,” he shrugs.

“About who has a bull’s eye more often?” she frowns.

“Nah, that’s boring. We’ll play truth or dare, or well, the idea is that in case you miss, I get to ask you a personal question and you have to answer. And you get to ask me a question if I miss, too, of course,” Jaime grins. “You know, to get to know each other.”

“… Fine,” she shrugs, puckering her lips.

“Lady’s first,” he grins.

“Oh, very subtle,” she snorts, getting in position. Brienne takes her stance, pulling back the string. She aims, exhales, and then shoots.

It’s odd, really, when she shoots arrows or fights, she feels a lot more confident than she does in real life. She has control, she can take her time. Well, in a swords fight, you don’t have the time, but that is when Brienne really lets go and allows her instincts to take over. But archery grants her control she oftentimes lacks in life.

“I guess I won’t get a single question about you,” Jaime makes a face, glancing at the arrow that hit the target dead-on. “Fine, my try.”

Jaime takes his stance, and Brienne takes her time studying him. It’s obvious that he doesn’t do this for the first time, and once he pulls back the string, the smug smile completely disappears from his face as he focuses on the target.

“I shall be damned. I have to practice more,” he grunts, glancing at the arrow once he fired it.

“Well, you were on target, almost,” she shrugs.

“So? What do you want to know?” he grins. Brienne tilts her head back. Right, he wants to play this game…

“What’s your weirdest antic?” she asks.

“Other than rescuing maidens and collecting swords? Hm… I guess it is that I rather crash at other people’s places than my own, even though I own a very fancy apartment,” he replies thoughtfully. “I actually have a guest room in Tyrion’s apartment just for the matter, and because he was fed up with finding me sprawled on the couch all the time. The leather was expensive or so.”

Brienne tilts her head, but then takes up the next arrow to shoot again. Jaime stands behind her with a dark grin this time.

“Will you seriously do the whole Kevin Costner slash Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio routine from _Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves_? That’s cheap,” she huffs.

And only to prove him wrong does she shoot the red bull’s eye absolutely dead-on despite his attempts of interrupting her.

“Your try,” she says, feeling a bit more confident.

Jaime gets in position, the posture absolutely perfect, but he misses again, if only by a few inches, “This is wicked. Okay, fine, give it to me.”

“How many girlfriends did you have?” she asks.

“Oh, so now we are making it personal,” he chuckles. “Hm, as in _real_ relationships… three?”

Brienne tries her best not to stare. She expected at least double-digit number, if not triple.

“I had a… long first relationship, and ever since, it’s been rough to build up something real again. In the end, we just never had anything in common, and that’s why it ended. I mean, I have dated more than three women, _a lot_ more than three women, of course, for that I’m too handsome, but relationship-wise, I guess I’m still looking for the one,” he shrugs. “Your turn.”

Brienne takes her stance, but as she is about to shoot, Jaime gives her slight nudge, forcing her to miss, “Hey! That’s unfair!”

“This game is no fun if I’m the only one playing it,” he shrugs.

“Fine. Shoot,” she exhales.

“What is the most forbidden thing you have ever done?” he grins.

“Forbidden? I tried to get into the High School football team by acting off as one of the guys, because it was a boys’ club only, if that counts?” she grimaces.

“Seriously?” he looks at her. Brienne just shrugs, “I wrestled them all to the ground with ease. Well, but of course it was over once I had to take off my helmet. Still served them right. At some point I didn’t really care. I was a freak anyways.”

“Freak? You?” he makes a face.

Does he seriously look _disbelievingly_?

“I was about this tall at the age of twelve,” she says, gesticulating with her flat hand at the height of her chest. “You can’t imagine how confused people were to find out that I wasn’t a boy. The first time I went to school, the hall monitor wanted to give me a detention because I wanted to use the girls’ bathroom and he thought I was a boy trying to peep on the girls… until someone explained it to him. I was into swords and fighting more than into styling and dancing. I could beat up every boy in school if I wanted. I didn’t get my jaws apart to talk. And I am clumsy. Yes, I was a freak.”

She still is, for all it’s worth, but by now she is used to her own freakishness and accepted the fact that she is.

“You were unique. You are,” he argues. Brienne puckers her lips, uncertain what to make of that statement, “Your turn.”

At some point the two just end up destroying the game for each other so that they have to answer questions each time they try to shoot an arrow. And Brienne honestly starts to forget about the control she thought she needed and simply joins him in his effortlessness, in his small game.

Because she wants to know more about him.

And because it feels nice to have someone wanting to find out about her as well.

“What is your favourite colour?”

“Blue.”

“What did you want to be when you were still little?”

“A knight.”

“Curious, so did I.”

“How many men did you kiss yet?”

“You included? Five.”

“The thing you regret most?”

“My first relationship. It was wrong for many reasons.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“I used to, but they all died when I was still young.”

“Oh, I… I am so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright.”

“Do you like your job in your father’s firm?”

“Not at all, but it grants me a carefree lifestyle. I’d rather be something more heroic, more idealistic, I don’t know. As I said, I’m old-fashioned, but my father needs me in the firm, what can I say? Family comes first. How is it about your father?”

“He let me work as whatever I wanted. He’s just very disappointed that I didn’t marry yet. I am his only child, that’s why.”

“What did you mean with ‘I should have known’ back in the taxi, about the arses who played that nasty trick at your expenses?”

“I’m me, that’s why I should have known it to be a trick. I’m, well, a freak. That’s why I should have guessed that this blind date was a ruse,” she says, but that is when he is suddenly in front of her, “Does that mean you think I’m playing tricks on you, too?”

“Does it?” she asks.

“I asked you if you think it is,” he says, his voice suddenly very strong, almost intimidating. He reminds her of a lion.

“I don’t want it to be,” she admits, averting her gaze, but Jaime tilts her chin up and kisses her on the lips just like he did the last time, though he holds on longer, presses against her to the point that she can feel the warmth of his skin radiating against her own. And she finds herself submitting to the tenderness of his touch.

She loses control, but for some reason that seems fine for now.

“Do you believe me?” he asks once he pulls away.

“Yes?” she blinks at him.

“Good,” he grins, kissing her again. “Belief is the first step to trust.”

Brienne simply lets it happen, lets him pull his arms around her, even though they are in a shabby archery range, even though she is a freak, and he is apparently a good-looking odd bird, or no, lion. Because he is seemingly into freaks because he is one as well, beneath the handsome surface.

Because Brienne feels secure in these arms in a way that she never did before, to the point that she doesn’t feel her armour pressing against them as he kisses her.


	3. Red Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime asks Brienne out on a date, but unexpected things, or rather, people destroy the plans, forcing him into admitting one of his darkest secrets. 
> 
> Things get a lot more real between the two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this fic is a lot more fun than I imagined it to be ;)

Brienne sits on her Recamier, knees drawn up to her chest so that she can lean her chin on them, eyes narrowed at the object standing on her kitchen counter as though it was some vicious animal about to strike the moment on she left it out of sight.

A bunch of blue roses.

Brienne didn’t even know those existed.

Blue roses.

Jaime slept over at her apartment yesterday, and today, after he had left for work, those roses suddenly stood there on the counter.

Not to mention that Brienne still finds herself frowning a lot more these days. Jaime and she date regularly now, and he pops up at her apartment almost daily, standing true to his weirdest antic he admitted to her back in the archery range. One time Jaime really swarmed inside her loft and said that he had loads of work to do and that he can’t talk to her – just to sit down at her kitchen counter to get to the task. When Brienne questioned him why he didn’t stay at the office or his apartment for the matter, he only offered a shrug, seemingly not knowing himself. That _really_ is his weird antic.

But except for kissing and a _bit_ more, nothing much happened, and that even though they had at least eight real dates already, and spent almost every day with each other in this way or another.

Whenever she had a boyfriend before, it never got past date five without him making advances.

Yet, here is a man who eats up everything she has in her fridge, rearranges her furniture when she is taking a shower, is into just the same things she is, who is a gentleman like out of the handbooks, teases her to the point that she shoves him back and forth, who looks like a real-life prince, and apparently rescues messed-up women from dying the death of red stilettos.

And brings blue roses.

Brienne is pulled out of her thoughts when her phone beeps. She doesn’t even have to look to know who is on the other end of the line. She guides the phone to her ear, eyes still fixed on the blue roses.

“I hope you found my present. Or are you hissing at the unfamiliar object like a cat?”

“You don’t even own a cat,” she argues.

“I watch cat videos online,” he chuckles. “Do you want a cat?”

“No? And if you dare bring one, I will kick you both out,” she warns him.

“You have the oddest ways to say ‘thank you’,” he chuckles.

“… Thank you,” she grimaces.

“Are you staring at the roses right now?” he grins.

“No?” she lies.

“You are such a bad liar,” Jaime chuckles softly. “So? How about dinner tonight? I mean, fancy dinner – which means that you have to use fork and knife like normal people?”

“I can’t handle chopsticks, so I use a spoon for Chinese takeaway, crucify me,” she grunts.

“Yet another thing I will have to teach you, then. So, I will drop by once I get out of work. I hope you have something pretty to wear. Hotpants are only fine for the shooting range. I will…,” Jaime stops on his way down the hallways of the Lannister firm when his eyes fall on a red dress.

“You will _what_?” Brienne frowns.

Jaime gapes, “I… I forgot the punchline. I’ll talk to you later, Blue Eyes, alright?”

“Are you okay?” she frowns at the change of tone.

She never heard uncertainty in his voice so far.

“Perfect, as always,” he replies in a monotonous voice. “I have to hang up.”

“Oh, alright, bye,” she grimaces. Jaime hangs up, setting his jaw in a straight line as he walks forward.

“Jaime, it’s been so long.”

“What are you doing here? I thought Father sent you abroad?”

“And now I’m back, brother.”

Jaime swallows thickly.

Brienne is not the only one who is a mess, just that his messes are… a lot messier.

…

“Yes, Margaery, the dress fits fine, thank you. No, I won’t send pictures. No. I told you… No! I am hanging up now. Yes, no. I am hanging up. Hanging up. Tell Renly hi from me, bye. Bye. _Bye_!”

Brienne looks at herself in the mirror. Margaery dropped by earlier the day after she had called her, lamenting about not having anything to wear for a fancy dinner other than the blue dress she still wants to shred. Margaery almost flew to her apartment with a black chiffon dress that runs up to her knees, sweetheart-neckline, but lace running up to close high around her neck, making her feel much more comfortable, since it reveals a bit, but not too much.

Margaery is really good with these things.

And Brienne, after she contemplated with herself a long while, decided to actually put on red lipstick. Normally she doesn’t, fearing to look clownish because she has rather broad lips, but it actually looks not halfway bad with the black dress.

And then again, Jaime knows her in sweatpants and loose shirts – and he still tells her each time how stunning she looks just wearing this, though she takes it more for a tease.

There is a knock on the door. Brienne shuffles over to open. She tilts her head at Jaime, dressed in one of the finest anthracite suits, crisp white shirt, and navy skinny tie, the jacket hugging his body in just the right places. Though that is nothing new. He’d look just as good in rags, “You are really early this time.”

Because he is always five minutes early for some reason.

“You look stunning,” he blurts out as he comes inside. Brienne frowns as she closes the door. She tries to get used to him making her compliments, but his expression isn’t the usual smug grin that he sports when he makes her a compliment, and that is what irritates her more than words can say.

“Blue Eyes?” he asks, kneading his hands, pacing like a lion in a cage.

She never saw him pace.

She never saw him… _nervous_?

“Is everything alright with you?” she grimaces.

“I’m fine, it’s, uhm, I have a confession to make,” he goes on.

He has to tell her, before _she_ gets to.

“What confession?” she looks at him with unnaturally wide eyes.

“I, uhm, there is something I didn’t tell you, really, and… and I should have, I know, but I… I didn’t know how, to be honest,” Jaime says, his mouth nervously flexing. “You hear it, even now I can’t say it without talking complete gibberish.”

“Welcome to my world,” she snorts.

“Back on our first date, when we played truth or truth, you asked me about my former relationships,” he goes on, licking his lips.

“Yes,” she nods slowly, not liking the sound of that.

“I never explained to you what the thing with my first relationship was,” he goes on.

“We both had relationships before, that’s fine,” she argues, tilting her head. He lets out a sigh,” That’s not the problem. I… uhm… you should have asked me what the most forbidden thing I have ever done was. Because it was this relationship.”

“What do you mean?” Brienne breathes.

“I told you about my sister, right? Cersei?” Jaime says, licking his lips.

“You said she’s been abroad for years because she handles international affairs for your father’s firm,” Brienne nods.

“Father actually sent her away because of something she and I did when we were still young, though he only found out way later when it was already a thing of the past,” Jaime bites the inside of his cheek.

“What did you do?” Brienne asks, but then her mind puts the pieces together and her sapphire blue eyes open so far that her eyelids hurt.

“You… and her?” Brienne manages to say.

And the small nod is the confirmation that it takes to make it truth.

That no matter how hard Jaime tries to be a perfect gentleman, no matter how much he tries to be everything Brienne wants him to be, though she doesn’t even know it herself, he will always have this shadow haunting him, the shadow that corrupted any attempt at a real relationship he ever had. Not because he told them and they refused him thus, but because it pulled him back, made him reconsider.

But with Brienne… he didn’t even think about Cersei anymore. This all seemed so perfect. Rescuing a fair maiden. Winning her, wooing her. Finding someone who is just like him without being a mirror image of him, like Cersei was.

And Jaime doesn’t want to lose that, lose her, because she makes him go crazy with her weird antics and with the fact that she doesn’t see that she is a gemstone no matter how much she tries to make herself believe that she is no more than a shard of glass.

But here is the shadow. And now it’s cast into her apartment, no matter how much Jaime tried to spread himself in her loft. It takes this one admission to have this shadow here.

And maybe it takes only this shadow to cast him out.

“How?” she can’t help but ask.

“It’s… we’re twins, I told you. We always shared a very… close connection. At some point during our youth, our father was always away for business trips. We were mostly on our own, because I had no real friends outside the family. We lived away from the city, in a huge house… It was just us and… I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. It happened, and we suddenly… were this. But I gave up on it and I never regretted the choice. It’s… it’s the one dark secret I didn’t admit to many people yet… and the one secret I didn’t want to tell you about,” Jaime tells her.

“Why?” she asks. “You know that I don’t like lies.”

“I didn’t want to lie to you. I just didn’t know how to tell you such a thing. That’s no real good warm-up to a date, let’s not pretend. It’s just… by the Gods, Brienne, I didn’t want to lose you to this shadow from my past,” Jaime admits feebly. “I wanted to prove it to you that I could be this perfect man, you know? But in the end, I am by no means perfect, not even good. And I couldn’t even hold it against you if you said now that you don’t want to see me ever again.”

“Why are you telling me this just now?” she asks.

“Because she is back in town,” Jaime admits. “Cersei, I mean.”

“… and you want to… go back to her?” Brienne asks, leaning on the kitchen counter.

That must be it.

Brienne starts to have feelings for a man who apparently loves his sister, however twisted that may be.

She was just a gap-filler.

Again.

Like always.

And here she thought she found someone who was like her, who liked her.

She really should have known.

However, that is when Jaime pulls her to him by her forearms, “I swear by the Gods that I want nothing to do with her. I want to be with _you_ , alright? I just didn’t want her to dig her nails into you to surprise you with these news. I wanted you to get them from me. So that you can make up your mind about me. About us.”

“Do you love her?” Brienne asks, her voice shaking. “Because if you still have feelings for her, then…”

Then what?

She will let him go?

Brienne doesn’t really know if she can… or wants.

“I still have feelings for her as my sister, but not love,” Jaime tells her. “Not what I feel for you.”

“I guess things just got a lot more real between you and me,” Brienne grimaces.

Because in fact they are both perfectly imperfect.

Jaime seems smooth and aloof to strangers, but is weird and a bunch of odd antics in private, beneath the pretty surface.

Brienne seems all mannish and freakish, but is also weird and fragile at the same time.

He has shadows from the past and so does she.

“Sorry for destroying the dream,” Jaime exhales, but that is when she pulls him against her chest, “You know that I’m a bad liar. That’s why I rather have the truth, no matter how hurtful it may be. I like reality better than a dream. Because that makes us real.”

They are both a mess. And while Brienne is still uncertain about the content of his failure, she is relieved to see those defences breaking away from him, because he wore an armour the same way she did.

Just that his was harder to take off, to the point that he allows her to hold him.

She pulls away to guide him to her bed, but then pulls him back into her embrace.

Dinner shall be damned.

Jaime’s hands travel over her cheek, her arms, getting lost in her kindness, in her understanding. That she seems to like him broken the same way she likes him whole.

That he doesn’t have to be the Golden Prince for her.

That being broken is fine.

That not being able to fix the world is fine.

That this is no longer a dream, but reality.

“Brienne?”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They simply fall asleep in each other’s arms, a bit closer after both their armours came off a bit more this night.


	4. Red Lady

Brienne exhales. While she still has to process the admissions Jaime made to her not long ago, she actually feels rather confident after all, for reasons she can’t and maybe even doesn’t want to explain.

They fell back into routine far easier than either one feared. Jaime spends the night more and more often – and Brienne tries her best to get used to the fact that being around Jaime inevitably means a loss of control, since the man manages to flip her and her life upside down.

Though of course she can flip him down likewise.

His back was one huge bruise after she proved him just that that in the kickboxing arena.

Though at some point she can’t help but wonder. It’s been over two weeks since Jaime’s admission, and still… it’s all as sweet and innocent as it was in the beginning.

Except that they admitted to each other that they fell in love with each other – and Jaime takes his almost childish delight in telling her every time he finds an occasion for it... one time even when she was in the bathroom, brushing her teeth and had a mouthful of white foam. 

“Blue Eyes!”

Brienne blinks as Jaime comes inside her loft. She gave him a key so that he can come and go as he pleases, and because she is fed up to always open the door for him.

“Hey, you are early,” she tilts her head.

“My Father is in town,” he grimaces.

“And that concerns me why?” she makes a face.

“Somehow he found out that I’m in a relationship, though I wanted to tell him personally once he came to town. I reckon Cersei has her hands in this somehow. So now he wants to meet my inamorata,” he explains. “For family dinner.”

“Did you look that word up in a dictionary?” Brienne makes a face.

“It doesn’t matter. I just want to know if I have to make up some smooth excuse why you can’t come or if you can bring yourself to come with me,” Jaime replies.

Brienne makes a face. She was introduced to the parents of one of her partners only once, and that proved to be a real disaster. When she ordered a steak, surrounded by militant vegetarians, it was somehow over. Not that the relationship was worth it much.

“Will it be Chinese?” she asks bluntly, making Jaime chuckle, “No, no Chinese. No chopsticks at all, I can promise that much.”

“But you’d want me to come?” she asks.

“Everything is better with you, you know that,” he shrugs. “But I’d understand if you said no. Not only will you meet my Father dearest, but also… Cersei.”

“Well, I can’t bypass it forever, can I?” Brienne shrugs.

“That is why I love you, Blue Eyes,” Jaime grins, meaning to kiss her, but Brienne puts her hand on his forehead, keeping him from it, “I need to get changed.”

* * *

 

And so, later the evening, Brienne and Jaime find themselves entering likely the fanciest restaurant in town. She went with the black dress she wanted to wear to the dinner Jaime had invited her to the day he admitted his first relationship to her. This is coupled with a small purse you can’t fit anything into, and nude slippers with a small heel. Brienne reckons she will tower above them in height anyways, so she might take a bit away by wearing not so high heels. Jaime’s hand is securely set on her hip as he guides her inside, though she can feel a small tremor the moment on his family comes into view.

“Father, it’s been such a long time. May I introduce you? This is Brienne of Tarth,” Jaime grins, his voice steady and self-conscious. Brienne extends her hand to the man with white hair and cold eyes, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Tywin shakes her hand, “The pleasure is on my side. My son talked a lot about you.”

He is good at lying, because Jaime let her know that he did in fact not.

“I hope only good things,” Brienne manages to say halfway smoothly, but that is when Jaime’s twin sister emerges like a mystical animal out of the fairy tales. Her hair shines so brightly that it blinds Brienne’s eyes, it’s long and perfectly styled. She wears a ruby satin dress, hugging her perfectly shaped body in just the right places, coupled with black, polished stilettos that are so high that Brienne knows she’d just fall over if she ever wore such a shoe. Her face is flawless, everything about her is. At some point Brienne should have guessed as much – because Jaime is already cut out of a magazine, so it stands to reason that his sister is likewise.

“So you are the ominous Brienne my brother can’t stop babbling about,” she says, taking her hand. “It’s such an honour to finally meet the woman who’s turned my brother’s head around.”

“I feel honoured to… uhm, get to know you, too,” Brienne grimaces.

“Brienne! I haven’t seen you in such a long time!” Tyrion’s cheery voice rings out, and Brienne and Jaime thank the Gods for the youngest Lannister son to always know when to interrupt. He took a liking to Brienne by now, already due to the fact that she made him forget about Cersei at last, and the youngest Lannister wants it to stay that way.

Brienne bends down to embrace the dwarfish man, who pats her on the shoulder affectionately. Brienne can feel the stares from the other woman poking through her.

“Let’s have a seat, then,” Tywin says. All do as the eldest says. In the end, Jaime sits next to his father and Brienne. Tyrion, gladly, managed to take the seat next to Brienne, and is thus seated between her and Cersei at the round table. Brienne already feared that Cersei would sit next to her to dig her nails into her forearm. 

Brienne tries her best to ignore the Red Lady studying her movements, though she almost chokes on her glass of water when Cersei asks her if she isn’t afraid to do too much training so that she’d look more like a man than a woman. However, that is when she feels Jaime’s hand squeezing hers very tightly.

“So? How long will you stay, sister dearest?” Tyrion throws in soon thereafter, earning him a few glances of pure venom from her, knowing fully well that he asks only to point out that she is to leave soon again. 

“That’s not out yet,” she shrugs.

“It is,” Tywin argues. “You were supposed to come here for the plenary meeting to give your presentation. After that, you are supposed to head back to Italy the soonest you can. The business doesn’t handle itself.”

“In fact it does,” Cersei argues. “It’s not like we have to build things with our own hands or so. In fact, things go their usual ways with or without me there.”

“Which is why you are supposed to make sure that this is so,” Tywin tells her promptly. “Because _that_ is your job.”

“What can I say? I miss my family, crucify me,” Cersei argues.

“Don’t tempt me,” Tyrion mutters under his breath.

“This is about business,” Tywin says.

“Oh, _right_ , just as it was that you set me up with Robert, because he’d be a good trading partner. We are no longer in the Middle Ages, you know? You don’t have to wed me to some man to earn his trust,” she hisses.

“He would be a good match,” Tywin shrugs, seeming to care little.

“And I am seriously the only one who has to get together with whoever you please?” she argues. “When my brothers get to be with _whoever_ they want?”

“Sister, I think the red wine is loosening your tongue a little bit too much,” Jaime tells her, his voice soft, but still sharp.

“What? Did he try to match you with her? No. For that she is not prestigious enough,” she shrugs. "He only does that with me."

“Careful now,” Jaime warns her. Brienne just watches those two killing each other with glances, as though they were on fire. 

“Why am I supposed to marry someone you find suitable as a trading partner while he gets all freedoms he wants? Why am I the one who gets punish till today?” Cersei demands, eyes fixed on Tywin this time, who only shrugs, “I will not honour that with a reply. I will only say that I didn’t tell you to marry this man. I gave him your number and he asked you for a date. What you make of it is something completely else. And in any case, Jaime brings good results, while you seem to enjoy your lifestyle too much to care about the firm.”

“What?” she blinks at him.

“I will not discuss this matter during dinner,” Tywin says. "Unless you make me. And I may add that this may not end pretty for you."

“Because it’s an uncomfortable truth that we are not at all as perfect as you wanted to forge your children?” she huffs. “Because you got a dwarf, a witch, and a knight who cares little about the firm?”

“Are you done yet?” Tyrion exhales wearily, sipping some of his wine. “Or could you at least wait until the dessert to revive the old family feuds? Or does the dwarf have to tell you that you are making a fool of yourself right now?”

“Careful now, little monster,” she hisses.

“Oh, there comes the main course,” Jaime exclaims loudly to somehow break up the moment – and Brienne really starts to understand that this family is messed-up.

“So, how are your plans for the future?” Tywin says, cutting his steak, glancing at Jaime and Brienne.

“Plans?” she frowns at him.

“You don’t seriously ask that yet, do you?” Jaime exhales. Brienne just tilts her head.

“One of my plans is to found an organisation to teach women self-defence for free,” Brienne blurts out. Tyrion chuckles next to her, “That sounds like a wonderful idea for the future, Brienne.”

“And you hope that Jaime, I mean, our family, will be so kind to provide the money for it?” Cersei huffs.

“No, I already have some plan sponsors, through my father,” she replies promptly, trying hard not to let it show just how offended she feels. Because Cersei means to imply that she is only together with Jaime to get that project working, to get his wealth. 

“I didn’t know you were rich?” Cersei grins.

“Not rich, but my father is befriended with many influential people. Not to mention that I am friends with Renly Baratheon. He is one of the main sponsors and is very invested into the project,” Brienne tells her, now feeling more confident.

“Renly Baratheon? Isn’t that Robert Baratheon’s little brother?” Tywin looks at her.

“Yes!” Jaime jumps in. “Renly and she are friends since High School, just like she is befriended with the Tyrells. You know that Renly is very successful in his job, like Robert.”

“You mean the little canary?” Cersei huffs.

“Thin ice,” Jaime tells her with narrowed eyes, knowing how highly Brienne values Renly. She told him about that ball back in High School, and how much balls Renly apparently showed that night.

He presses her palm a little tighter this time, fearing that Brienne will lunge over the table. You can insult her, you can insult her work, but Renly is one of the things that are untouchable for Brienne.

“In any case, I find Brienne’s idea really brilliant. Women should know how to defend themselves. I hear and read it often enough that they get beaten up or robbed or both… or worse. If they knew how to properly defend themselves, they’d stand better chances,” Jaime goes on in a more peaceable tone.

“I feel the same,” Tyrion nods. “In fact, the Lannisters may profit from investing in this project likewise. We still have so much to do in terms of PR. This might be something to help the firm get a better picture.”

“We don’t need a better picture. We are successful,” Cersei argues.

“We could be _more_ successful. _I_ should know. I know the numbers better than you because I do my job. You’d have no idea what a good PR campaign can do to spur business,” Tyrion huffs.

“We have Jaime for the PR. His face is everywhere,” she argues. “He is our number one advertisement.”

“But you can never have too much PR,” Tyrion argues.

“Uhm, sorry to interrupt, but if you excused me for a moment?” Brienne says suddenly, getting up. Jaime looks at her quizzically, but she offers a small smile before she goes.

“One odd bird you caught there, brother,” Cersei snorts once Brienne is out of sight.

“I won’t tell you another time that you should be more careful, sister,” Jaime argues.

“So, Jaime, you think she is a good match?” Tywin asks, unimpressed by the siblings fighting. Jaime turns to him, blinking, “I love her, if that is what you are asking. Or do you mean to give me the speech of how she is not good enough for me?”

“Hm, I can’t say that for certain. Up to this point, I’m positively surprised, though,” Tywin says, shovelling more red, bloody steak into his mouth.

“Wow, I never heard our Father making a compliment,” Tyrion huffs. “Someone please take a picture.”

“You know as well as me that I approve this for more than one reason. And if she has connections to both the Baratheons and the Tyrells, then only the better,” Tywin replies. Jaime means to say something when he realises Tyrion tapping his thigh – and Cersei having gone to the restrooms.

Splendid.

“So, about the PR campaign…,” Tywin goes on.

Meanwhile, Brienne stands in front of the polished mirror in the bathroom, washing her hands with cold water, which is soothing against her heated skin.

Jaime warned her about his family, but she didn’t expect it like this at all. She grew up in a household that was always filled with love, despite the tragedies they lived through. Brienne knows she is always welcome at home, no matter what she does. But here she has a family where a daughter is excluded from the family because of something she and her brother did when still youths, a patriarch who is only set on gain for his empire, and then there are Jaime and Tyrion who don’t seem to fit in at all.

And somewhere in-between she stands, wherever that is.

“Oh, hello there,” Cersei’s voice rings out, and Brienne tries her best not to jump like a startled cat. Jaime’s sister takes her stance next to Brienne, giving her another look-over, before she takes out a lipstick from her purse and starts to go over her full lips.

“Family dinners always tend to be messy,” she goes on.

“Well, I guess your family isn’t the exception,” Brienne shrugs, trying hard not to start sweating.

“Sadly not,” she exhales. “It’s just that I don’t get to see them so often. I live everywhere but at home.”

“I’m… sorry about that,” Brienne wriggles her nose.

“Oh well, it’s the price you pay for love,” Cersei exhales.

“Jaime’s mentioned… _that_ to me,” Brienne replies.

“Oh did he? And it didn’t put you off?” she grimaces. “And here I thought we were odd.”

“I, uhm… It’s something of the past,” Brienne says uncertainly.

“Do you really think it is?” Cersei grins. “I mean, I suppose Jaime thinks it is, but in the end, none of his relationships worked because they weren’t… his first.”

Brienne blinks against the white light above the mirror.

“That has always been the issue,” Cersei goes on. “I’m just curious how long it will take him this time around to figure it out. He is a passionate man, and sometimes way too impulsive. But you will likely know just _how_ passionate he is, right?”

Brienne goes on blinking, her mind reeling.

“In any case, you should enjoy it for as long as it lasts. But you are a strong one, aren’t you? I bet you are one of the ladies who will always be able to handle things on their own. Women have to be strong, right?” she plops her lips and stuffs her lipstick away.

“It was nice chatting with you,” Cersei says before she disappears.

Brienne sucks in a few gulps of air before heading back to the table as well. She settles down on her chair, and Jaime’s hand is instantly searching hers. Brienne looks over to Cersei, who sips her wine, mouthing “told you” around the red liquid pouring down her throat.

The dinner goes on uneventfully thereafter. Tywin shakes her hand, saying that he hopes to see more of her and that he’d charge Tyrion with engaging with her project for PR reasons. Cersei goes as far as to hug her and Jaime this time, and Tyrion offers sympathetic glances before he takes a taxi to his apartment.

And so, they find themselves in a sticky taxi as well.

“I’m so sorry for this disaster,” Jaime exhales. “I thought they’d behave at least a little bit.”

“It’s nothing,” Brienne replies.

“Are you alright?” he asks, noting the distant tone in her voice. “Did Cersei something to you?”

“I don’t want to discuss that in a taxi,” Brienne replies.

“Okay, I get that,” Jaime grimaces.

They drive to her apartment in all silence thereafter. Once inside, Brienne kicks off her shoes at once, letting out a sigh, her whole body curling in on itself to get rid of the tension in her muscles.

“What did Cersei say?” Jaime asks, his fire burning, aching for a reply. Because he fears that his sister did more than a little stabbing on his Blue Eyes. 

“She still loves you,” Brienne replies, her sapphire eyes gleaming in the dim light. 

“She wants to own me, that was also the breaking point for us before. That she wanted to possess me,” Jaime argues. “But it doesn’t matter, because I don’t love her like that anymore. I told you, I love _you_.”

“She said that you tried to make yourself believe that with whatever girl you were with before, because none of them could match your first,” Brienne goes on.

“That may have been true for the other girls I was with, but it’s not true when it comes to you,” Jaime argues vehemently. “So listen.”

“You never tried to sleep with me,” Brienne then blurts out saying.

“What? I sleep next to you almost every night, and I’m glad for it, even if your mattress sucks,” Jaime argues.

“No, I mean… you never slept with me, and that even though we are… already to the point that you introduce me to the family,” Brienne argues. “Is that because you still think of her?”

Brienne expects many things for a reaction, but not that Jaime bends over, laughing loudly to the point his body shakes. 

“This is not funny!” she curses. Jaime straightens back up, wiping a tear from his eyelashes, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. This is not at all funny, but… it’s just so ridiculous.”

“What is?” she grimaces.

“Brienne, I would have torn off your clothes the very first night I saw you, but I wanted to show you that you matter to me, because you do. I wanted for you to make the first step, and trust me, it took me about everything not to just take you. You drive me insane with your crazy sexiness, I told you often enough,” Jaime tells her, drawing closer. “I would have flung you down, would have torn off your clothes, but I wanted to be a gentleman. I wanted to show you that I’m none of the little shits who played tricks on you before."

Brienne just stares at him as Jaime comes to take his stance right in front of her, “I told you, Blue Eyes, I love you. Cersei is just messing with you because she can’t accept defeat.”

“So I’m not just some echo?” she asks, her voice a whisper.

“No, you are the real-life version of a princess I rescued,” he grins, wrapping his arms around her. “A princess who happens to be as weird as I am.”

He presses his lips on hers, holds her close, doesn’t want to let her go, ever again.

“And by the way, I take it as an invitation that you bothered your head sore why I didn’t sleep with you yet,” he grins against her teeth, pushing her backwards.

“Jaime?” she suddenly looks at him uncertainly.

“What? I have been patient enough, c’mon,” he mewls.

“You know, I… I haven’t _ever_ …,” she wants to warn him, but he just pulls her up to fling her down on the mattress, “That’s alright. I only rescue maidens anyways.”

He kisses her until she submits to every of his touches – and Jaime still can’t imagine how someone would reject such a gemstone if he had it in hand. Everything about that woman is so wonderfully out of place while being just in place, a constant voltage field that it sends shivers up and down his spine.

Brienne is scared at first, for so many reasons that they just dance over her head, but Jaime kisses them all way, touches them all away. Because he turns out to be the kind of man she always wished for.

Maybe they live a dream after all, within a messy reality.

“Do you trust me?” he breathes at one point.

“I trust you,” she sighs.

Because she does.

His moves are careful, but not too careful, possessive, but not too possessive, just something in-between that she wants to get lost in forever. Even though the smug grin makes her shove him a few times when he goes too far, but he just chuckles and tries again.

Because he always tries again, doesn’t let go.

And when he moves into her, it’s as though the fear people like her Septa punched into her since she was just that small simply melt away as he holds her, kisses her, waits, waits for her, as both lay bare, without any armours, any last defences.

They are at a truce, accepting themselves in their messed-up nature, messed-up family relations, messed-up pasts, because they found a bit of fairy tale thanks to a red stiletto stuck in a drain.


	5. Red, Red Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne's morning routine. 
> 
> Loras, Renly, and Margaery come over - so Jaime has to appeal to Brienne's friends, though he just wants to be with Brienne, but she has other plans. 
> 
> Other stuff happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have decided to carry on with it. 
> 
> Though you are free to leave off with chapter 4. I think that works out just fine. 
> 
> If you want to dig through the life of those two cuties for a bit longer, you are more than welcome to keep your seatbelts fastened.

“Blue Eyes! You are out of coffee, _again_!” Jaime calls out of the kitchen.

“Because you use it up all the time,” Brienne curses from the bathroom. “And I may add that I pay for the stuff when you are in fact the rich boy of us two.”

Really, Jaime makes any effort to live up to his odd antic the best he can, or rather the worst he can.

“I pay with my stunning looks and my charming personality,” he replies.

“That still doesn’t pay the coffee,” she argues. “And in any case, there are also teabags.”

“And I told you that I don’t drink tea from teabags. If you want to drink tea, you do it right,” Jaime shakes his head. “With kettle and tea leaves.”

“You are free to grow a tea plant if that makes you happy,” Brienne snorts as she makes her way over to the kitchen counter, towelling her wet hair, dressed in a loose greying shirt that leaves one shoulder bare, coupled with short baby blue sweatpants.

It’s odd, really, back when Brienne had her first relationships, she never felt comfortable revealing herself like that. Brienne tried her best to look fancy. She even got up early when one of them spent the night, to put on a bit of make-up before her partner woke. She simply thought that if she didn’t, the man would realise how much uglier she is at daylight, and make a run for it, but with Jaime, she is completely… _at ease_. She feels alright wearing no make-up, or walk around with sparse, or totally baggy clothing. 

Brienne has never been at ease with her looks, but with him, she is for some reason she can’t really explain other than that they love each other the way they are.

“I told you often enough that you can’t just come in here with wet clothes, Blue Eyes. For that you’re too damn hot. I have to be on time for work,” Jaime grins at her like a predator. Brienne ignores him to take a juice out of the fridge. She shakes it up before uncapping it and taking a sip. Jaime uses the moment to snake his arms around her, burying his face in the nape of her neck.

“I thought you had to be on time,” she snorts, but then has to swat his hand away when it means to sneak under her shirt.

“Oh c’mon, you could give me a bit to make it through the day,” he pouts.

“I could, but I don’t want to,” she replies. Jaime grabs her around the waist tightly before picking her up in one swift motion and placing her on the kitchen table. Brienne can only shriek once. She tends to forget that he is actually strong enough to do that.

Brienne never had someone who was strong enough.

Jaime stands between her legs, both palms on her hips, “Say again that you don’t want, Blue Eyes.”

“You are late for work,” she tells him with a grin, sticking out her tongue before she takes a mouthful of her juice. Jaime kisses her, Brienne swallows, their mouths clash, and once he pulls back, he only chuckles, “The juice is good.”

“Whatever,” she huffs, pushing him by the shoulder.

“Well, at least I will be rewarded for making it through the day without any action once I get home,” Jaime sighs.

“Yeah, nope, I told you that Margaery, Renly, and Loras are coming over tonight,” she argues.

“Oh, no. That’s _today_?!” Jaime throws his head back, before he leans it against her shoulder. “And here I thought I would finally have all the time in the world to fling you down and do all the things that leave you like jelly in my arms.”

“I told you, three times. I saved it into your phone to remind you five times. If you still don’t get the hint, it’s hardly my problem,” she argues.

“Can’t you just say that we are busy or so?” Jaime mewls.

“Busy with _what_? In the late evening?” Brienne makes a face.

“ _Sex_ , Brienne, sex. What humans do ever since humans existed,” Jaime replies bluntly, gesturing with his hands.

“You are running late,” Brienne replies unimpressed. “And I expect you to behave yourself civilly. Those are my friends, alright?”

“Me? Civilly? I am everybody’s darling,” Jaime argues.

“Yeah, show that tonight _for once_ ,” Brienne huffs.

“What do I get as a reward?” Jaime grins.

“I will tell you what you do wrong when you shoot arrows?” Brienne replies, flipping one leg over the other to hop off the table and walk off.

“What? You know why I’ve been off in ages and you don’t tell me?! What a betrayal!” Jaime cries out, tagging after her.

“I thought you’d figure it out yourself. So, you behave yourself and then I might tell you,” Brienne tells him.

“Shit, I’m late for work!” Jaime cries out, checking his wristwatch.

“No _really_?” Brienne rolls her eyes. Jaime grabs his suitcase and jacket in a hurry, before he plants a kiss on her lips and hurries outside, “Till later, Blue Eyes. Love you!”

“Be on time!” she calls after him as the door closes. Brienne exhales, running her hand through her wet hair.

She never thought that she would have that odd bit of normalcy.

Just like she never expected someone like Jaime to walk into her life.

Yet, here they are, bickering over breakfast, yelling "love you" at each other as though it was the most normal thing in the world... because it is. 

Though she still has to get used to him making advances on her. If Cersei lied about many things, she didn’t lie about Jaime being passionate. He always teased her about being sexy, but now that they took that _hurdle_ as well, Brienne would go as far as to say that he is greedy… for her.

Not that she’d ever say that out loud.

That Jaime wants her, as in really _wants_ her, is still something new to Brienne. She learned by now that people care about her, that people like Jaime love her, but that there is someone aching for her, waiting for her, needing her, wanting her _and_ her body… that still leaves her blushing like a stupid teenager. Because Jaime always muses at those things she hated about herself.

She never liked her fleshy thighs. He compliments her on them almost daily, even if it earns him a bruise for trying to squeeze her there.

She always found her bony, edgy shoulders odd and bulky, he says they are fierce.

She always felt a little ashamed over the fact that she had a small bosom, he says it fits perfectly into her hand, plus a feral, dark grin each time he says it.

He really wants her and needs her.

Just like she needs him.

And that is perhaps what is so new and so wonderful to Brienne, that it is a give and take. That she isn’t just bound to marvel at a man, but that he, in all earnest, seems to appreciate things about her she usually kept to herself.

Which is also why Brienne wants him to like her friends – and that her friends like him. They all matter to her, and she wants them to be as enthusiastic about the bit of odd happiness she found for herself with Jaime as she is.

“I should better get changed. Or else I’ll run late, too.”

* * *

 

Gladly, Jaime was on time after all, though he made his displeasure no secret, grunting and mewling like a cat.

“I get make-up sex for that, just so that you know,” Jaime tells her. He traded suit for a loose white shirt and black jeans while Brienne chose washed jeans with a navy blue top, upon his insistence.

“Just so that _you_ know, if you think you’ll ever get that from me for something like that, you’d better head to your own apartment, because that means you won’t be sleeping anywhere near this bed any time soon,” she warns him.

“Tough love,” he grunts. He means to say something else, but that is when the doorbell rings. Brienne is at the door at once.

“Saved by the bell,” Jaime huffs, though he could still marvel at her bursts of enthusiasm all day long. He loves it to see Brienne all loosened up. Of course he likes her tensed up, too, squirming and blushing, but Jaime knows that she cares about her friends and that this is why she is so excited.

And of course he is certainly something to show off.

“Brienne! It’s been far too long!” Margaery’s voice rings out first. The two women embrace each other. “Oh, I like that top. Is it new?”

“No?” Brienne makes a face.

“It looks new,” Margaery shrugs, but then tears her eyes over to Jaime. “So you must be the infamous heir of the Lannister Empire.”

“In fact,” Jaime agrees. Margaery walks up to him, presses a quick kiss on his cheek as she gives him a loose hug. “I would definitely hire you as a model if I could afford it.”

“Ah, right, the fashion designer, I almost forgot,” Jaime chuckles.

“Hi, Loras,” Brienne greets Margaery’s brother,

“Hey,” he greets her, pressing against her quickly with a wink.

At first, those two didn’t get along at all. Loras thought that Brienne was having a crush on his, up to that point, secret boyfriend, which is why he didn’t want to be close to her, but Margaery insisted. At first Loras thought his sister had just found herself a new charity project, since she is a Samaritan often enough, but he had to learn soon that Brienne is grotesque, but at the same time a real good friend, simple as that. She has always been supportive of Renly and Loras, even when they both didn’t have their coming out yet, and she was the one to beat up whoever dared to make false claims about them, or ever dropped a comment or accusation.

To the day, all will remember that one time one of the usual bullies called Renly and Loras faggots. Loras was about to beat the guy up, but as he was about to advance, something giant came flying from his right and moments later the bully was on the ground, with Brienne on tops as she knocked sense into him. It took two teachers and one of the football team to tear her off of him. That she got a detention seemed to be the least of troubles for her, in fact, Brienne held her head high the whole time, even though she bled from he nose, Loras remembers.

And Brienne definitely had his respect once she managed to tackle him down during the football try-outs where she had posed as a boy. Because he is good at sports, has been for all his life – and usually, no one overpowered him, but she did.

You have to accept defeat sometimes. And in the end, he gained from it, or so he reckons, because Renly got to tell him that he told him so – that Brienne is loyal beyond reason, but that this is what makes her such a good friend.

“Renly!!!” Brienne cries out loudly as the raven-haired man comes inside, readily taking her into his arms as she flings her limbs around him. Jaime blinks a few times, “She definitely doesn’t react like that when I come home.”

“You’ll have to get used to that,” Loras shrugs. “Like I did.”

“You are an odd bunch,” Jaime grimaces.

“If you haven’t guessed, I’m starting to doubt you already,” Loras huffs.

“Hey, I am all into odd people, I’m one myself,” Jaime shrugs.

“So we heard,” Margaery chuckles.

“Brienne, you can let go of him now,” Loras tells the blonde woman, who flashes a small smile, still holding on to Renly’s arm, “I’m sorry. I haven’t see him for so long now.”

“It’s alright. I missed you, too,” Renly winks at her. “You know that.”

“I hope you have something decent to eat,” Margaery sighs. “I’m starving.”

“Be our guest,” Brienne nods at the kitchen counter.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Margaery exhales before digging through the small buffet Brienne lined up.

“Women all eat their hearts out that my sister can eat like two men and not gain any weight at all,” Loras snorts.

They start to chat after that – and Jaime can’t deny that he finds the company quite charming, in fact, he finds himself drawn in at once. What he finds almost curious is that they almost instantly treat him as one of their own, though Jaime reckons that this is also why Brienne is so fond of them. Because they don’t make the difference. They only see the togetherness.

And to tell the truth, Jaime always had people admiring him, but he never had real friends outside his family, so it’s really nice for a change to… be part of a group.

Because you can’t buy friends, he knows that in a long time.

“… What was that song again?” Margaery asks.

“What? What song?” Jaime frowns.

“The one you had for your solo performance in the school choir. Someone help me out here,” Margaery says, snapping her fingers at Brienne, gesticulating nervously.

“Margaery!” Brienne cries out, her cheeks reddening at once.

“What? You didn’t tell him that you have some pretty singing voice?” she huffs. “In case you didn’t know, she sang in the school choir. In fact, she _was_ the school choir.”

“I was forced,” Brienne insists.

“Because our choir was shit otherwise,” Loras shrugs. “They pretty much recruited the one person at school who didn’t sound like a canary that’s brutally murdered.”

“Blue Eyes, I had no idea,” Jaime grins maliciously. She punches him in the arm, “Stop that.”

“ _Red, Red Wine_ ,” Renly jumps in.

“That one!” Margaery gesticulates wildly.

“They seriously let you perform a song about alcohol?” Jaime chuckles.

“When no one ever really shows up, people tend to give a damn on what you do,” Loras shrugs.

“Your school was an odd place,” Jaime makes a face.

“I cheer to that,” Renly chuckles, holding up his glass of red wine, and the others join the chorus. “Cheers.”

“So… Brie said that you saved her from sure death when you first met,” Margaery goes on.

“Just like she told you not to call her Brie,” Brienne narrows her eyes at her.

“In any case, is it so?” Margaery asks, blinking at Jaime. “I want to know all about it. We haven’t heard your side yet.”

“Well, I can’t deny that I saved her from a car running her over,” Jaime shrugs.

“And after that?” Margaery smiles.

“I told you what happened after that,” Brienne argues. “He was a gentleman and brought me home. There you have it. Now stop with your sensationalism.”

“That I know. But what did you think about her? What was going through your mind?” Margaery goes on with her canny grin.

“Margaery!” Brienne cries out.

“I just thought that reality must play a trick on me for sending me the woman of my dreams right into my arms,” Jaime grins, snaking his arm around her.

“Awwwww,” Margaery mewls.

“Stop that,” Loras exhales. “You sound like a cat.”

“But this is romantic,” she argues.

“Have you met her father yet?” Renly asks.

“Now you, too?” Brienne exhales.

“What?” Jaime makes a face.

“I told you about my father. _That_ is why you didn’t meet him yet,” Brienne replies, tilting her head to the side. Jaime furrows his eyebrows, thinking back to what she said about him…

“Oh,” his eyes open a bit wider.

“Exactly,” she nods.

“Do you have some kind of mental connection or what’s the matter?” Loras snorts.

“You finish my sentences half of the time, too,” Renly argues.

“Awwww,” Margaery mewls.

“Margaery,” Renly and Loras roll their eyes simultaneous.

“Hey, I have invested into this relationship a _great_ deal, so let me harvest some of my hard work by being in awe,” Margaery snorts – because if not for her, Loras and Renly wouldn’t be a couple the way they are today, if they were a couple at all.

“But what’s the matter with him meeting Selwyn? I don’t think he’d be very disappointed, I mean, fine, he’s a Lannister, but he can’t help it, huh?” Loras shrugs.

“What now?” Jaime grimaces.

“Since our families operate in the same niche, and Selwyn is very loyal to the Baratheons, he doesn’t like the Lannister firm much, out of principle,” Renly explains.

“That will be fun,” Jaime makes a face.

 _Hi, I'm the son of the family you hate, pleasure to meet you._ That will be fun.

“Take pictures,” Loras grins. “He’s more intimidating than Brienne is, if he is really raging.”

“Loras!” Renly cries out. “That’s awful to say!”

They chatting continues thereafter and Jaime soaks up the information like a sponge. All those little anecdotes and stories about young Brienne leave him smiling and adoring her even more, especially since she goes on blushing like a teenager the moment on someone drops a story about her. Gods, does he love it when she blushes like that.

Sometimes Jaime really wished he had met her during his school time already.

At last, the three bid their farewells, and Jaime is more than surprised to get a very tight hug from Margaery, as though he was a family member now already.

“I start to like your friends,” Jaime grins, helping Brienne with bringing the glasses and empty plates into the kitchen.

“I don’t know where I would have been without them, to be honest,” Brienne shrugs. “They have always been a great support for me.”

“I was just surprised how easily they let me in. I thought I would have to prove myself a lot more,” Jaime shrugs.

“You don’t have to worry much about it,” Brienne shrugs. “They are like that. I don’t know. If not, I wouldn’t be part of the group, I reckon.”

The great thing about those three is that she never had to pretend to be anyone else. They accept people in their queerness, because they are queer as well.

“Though I must say I’m a bit jealous, still,” Jaime looks at her with a grimace, coming closer to her.

“Why would you be?” she makes a face.

“Because you seem to like Renly more than me. You never squeal for me like that when I come home. I mean, I can make you squeal like that when you come home in bed, but I never got such a greeting, and I am your sweetheart,” Jaime argues.

“You’ll have to get used to it,” Brienne shrugs. “Renly is… _Renly_. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

“Just say it already that you like me better than him,” Jaime mewls, grabbing her by the hips to pull her closer to him.

“I actually like him better than you,” she sticks out her tongue. “ _But_! I love you more.”

And Jaime knows how much that means – because her love for Renly is simply unconditional, after he was the one to save her from the prom disaster that still makes Jaime’s blood boil hot and cold.

Jaime smiles as he presses his lips on hers, “The night’s still young.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“It’s either that, or that you sing _Red, Red Wine_ for me,” Jaime taunts her.

“I won’t sing for you,” she narrows her eyes at him, but at that he already picks her up again, “Oh, I will make you sing, Blue Eyes. I will make you sing my name.”

“Gods, I hate you so much right now,” Brienne hits him in the arm, but Jaime walks on, holding her close.

“You know that you love me,” he argues. “You just said it.”

“And sometimes I don’t know why,” she huffs as he simply plops her down on the bed without further ceremony, her hair falling into her face.

“Then it’s high time that I show you why you love me,” Jaime grins as he leans down on top of her, running his over her face to get rid of the hair and bring her sapphires back, before claiming her plump lips, cupping her chin.

“Do you really think _that_ turns people on?” she huffs against his mouth.

“I know how to turn you on, even without those flawless pick-up lines.”

“That means you’ll shut up? Fine, deal.”

“Blue Eyes?”

“What?”

“I have a new compliment for you.”

“And what would that be?”

“You are my best friend.”

Brienne blinks once, twice, but then leans on her forearms to climb up to kiss his lips.

“You’re mine, too.”

“But you still need to keep tabs on the coffee deposits, I say so as _your best friend_.”

“Okay, that’s it. We’re going to sleep.”

“I take it back! C’mon!”

“Nope, game over, fellow.”

“Oh c’mon.”

“Forget it.”

“Please? Ow! Stop being violent! Ow! Ow! OW!”


	6. Red Card

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne are on the way back from a double-date with Tyrion and Shae when Jaime finds a card in the trash. 
> 
> He calls Brienne upon it. 
> 
> Brienne faces things from her past, along with Jaime.

Jaime and Brienne are walking down the streets in bright moonlight. He has his arm snaked around her to rest on her hip, and Brienne tries her best not to stumble in the blue high heels. Margaery shall be damned, again, though they don’t make blisters for once.

They went to a bar with Tyrion and his girlfriend Shae. They have been dating for a while, but he didn’t want to say at first, probably fearing that this would destroy it, but when she introduced herself as his girlfriend, calling him her “lion”, Tyrion knew their status, which is why he seems a lot happier than Brienne ever remembers him to be. Brienne is honestly happy for him. She knows how hard it is to find someone to care about you if you don’t apply to the standards. It took her long until she met Jaime, so she really knows what she is talking about.

However, a fancy bar required fancy clothes, which is why she had to summon Margaery again, who instantly had a petrol skirt with a white top ready for her.

“I hope that Father won’t destroy anything,” Jaime says after a while.

“What do you mean?” Brienne frowns.

“Shae doesn’t have a grand background. She works as a bartender, let’s not forget. While I wouldn’t care if she was homeless for as long as she made Tyrion happy, Father gives a lot on the picture the Lannisters are supposed to deliver. So it might be that he objects a union that is not matching our social standing,” Jaime grimaces. “I hope that if Tyrion and I put in a good word for her, he will look past that, though.”

“She can stand her ground against them, I’m sure,” she shrugs. “She has a quick tongue.”

That is what Tyrion likely loves about her as much as her stunning looks.

“That’s right,” Jaime agrees, looking ahead. “Ah, home sweet home.”

They make their way up the stairs to the apartment, Brienne opens, walks inside and kicks off the high heels at once.

“Freedom,” she sighs. “I’ll just change out of these.”

“No striptease for me?” Jaime grins. She rolls her eyes, looking over her shoulder, before she heads into the bathroom. Jaime chuckles to himself as he heads into the kitchen to get a bottle of juice from the fridge. He finishes it in a few swigs and wants to throw it into the trash can, when suddenly a red rectangular card catches his eyes, sticking out of the rubbish like some flag. He tilts his head to read the top line.

“Blue Eyes?”

“What is it?” she calls out from the bathroom.

“Why is an invitation for a class reunion in the trash?” he asks. It takes her no more than five seconds to emerge for the bathroom, not for once caring that she only wears the skirt, the bra, and the loose over shirt, “Stop going through the trash.”

“Does that mean you won’t go?” he asks, drinking her with his eyes, but Brienne is really too angry and flustered to care for his feral grin. “Yes, that means I won’t go anywhere near those people ever again. You know by now that High School was torture for me. I want nothing to do with these folks ever again. I built up a life without them. So I don’t think I have to give them the satisfaction to laugh to my face another time.”

“Why would they laugh to your face now?” Jaime frowns.

“Because some people apparently never get out of High School,” Brienne shrugs. “I should know. While it was lucky coincidence that I met you, the day up to that point was torture – because of aforementioned school bullies.”

Jaime chews on the inside of his cheek, contemplating, but then drops his self-conscious smile to look at her in all earnest.

“You don’t have to run from them, you know?” he argues.

“I don’t run from them,” she argues. “I want nothing to do with them.”

“Or you could take it as an opportunity and prove them all wrong,” he argues.

“With what?” she snorts.

“Well, you happen to have perhaps the best looking boyfriend this town has seen,” he winks at her. “I’m always good to use for display. I do that for a living.”

“I don’t want to go, period,” she retorts, hugging her arms.

“And that would be fine, but if you think you can’t go because of them, then I have something against it,” Jaime argues.

“Why?” she makes a face.

“Because you are not afraid of anything, but those guys will hold you back for the rest of your days if you let them haunt you,” he tells her now in all earnest. “I can tell you that bit from experience, really. I let something haunt my life for a very long time, Brienne. You know that the very best. I don’t want you to let those folks haunt you – because they were and are plainly wrong.”

“I don’t care for what they think of me,” Brienne argues.

“Just that you do,” he retorts. “And you will always – because they still control you in a way, even though they have no reason and no means.”

“Other than setting the freak up on fake dates?” she huffs. Jaime walks over to her, and pulls her into his arm, “You are good at your job, you are a good friend, you are beautiful, sexy, strong, unique, and fierce. They have nothing to accuse you of. And if they dare to do that, they are simply telling lies.”

He leans his forehead against hers, “I don’t say you have to go. I just don’t want you not to go because you feel like you are not good enough. You are better than them all.”

“You haven’t ever met them,” she huffs, though her voice is soft and affectionate.

Because those words sink right through her skin into her heart.

Because he means them.

“I don’t have to meet them. You are the best, so you are naturally better than any of them,” Jaime shrugs before he kisses her lips, holding her close.

“Maybe I should after all,” she shrugs, smiling against his mouth.

* * *

 

And so, Brienne finds herself on the reunion a few days later after all. Renly, Loras, and Margaery didn’t come. Margaery is abroad this week, because of a fashion show where she gets to display some of her work, and Renly and Loras, understandably, don’t want to go back to the place where both received a fair share of beat up for loving outside the heterosexual norm. While it’s no longer a big deal in their life today, it was a huge deal back when they were young, and even though both are way past High School, there are just things they don’t find worth the revisit.

So that leaves Brienne glancing at tinsel in the school colours, balloons in the school colours, and people looking way too much like they did back in High School. Before she went, Margaery had a dress tailored for her, stating that she would have been there for support, would she not have the fashion show, so the least she could do was to leave everyone gaping at her. Which is why Brienne wears a lavishly pleated, violet dress that hugs her torso tightly. The pencil skirt leaves enough room for her to move freely, though, something she was very glad about when she first tried it. It has only one shoulder that is slightly flared, with a triangular flap to make it a bit edgy. Against better judgment, Brienne really feels confident in this dress. It covers what it is supposed to cover. She can move, she can breathe, and when she looked at herself in the mirror, she didn’t jump away either.

Not to mention that Jaime was all over her for the matter, though that is nothing new.

“Oh, goodness, is that you, Brienne?!”

Brienne tears her head around to a bunch of girls she can instantly identify as ex-cheerleaders. She never had much trouble with them, except for the comments she got from everyone anyways, though they never really pulled tricks on her. They just laughed along.

“It says so on the name tag,” Brienne replies with a crooked smile, stepping closer.

“Now look at you,” the girl grins. “You look like a completely new person, dear.”

“… Thank you, I suppose?” Brienne grimaces.

“I mean, you are even taller than I remember you to be. But that’s nothing you could ever really help, right?” the woman goes on. “I was surprised to see that you would come after all. You haven’t been to a single reunion so far. I always found that such a pity.”

“I was busy each time,” Brienne shrugs. “What can I say?”

Busy pouring venom over them, watching some action movie with lots of blood and weapons alone in her apartment to forget her pains.

“I hoped that maybe all would come after all, but the other three of your clique won’t show up, huh?” she grimaces.

“Well, I think you can hardly blame Loras and Renly,” Brienne argues. “High School was anything but a good experience for them.”

“Oh, it was just a bit of teasing,” she argues.

“They got _beaten up_ because of their sexual orientation,” Brienne retorts, trying her best to keep her anger in check. “I don’t think that this is just a little tease.”

And she is instantly back in High School.

“We all were kids back then. Kids do stupid things,” she shrugs.

“They got beaten up in the _last_ year of High School likewise. Then you aren’t really a _kid_ anymore,” Brienne argues vehemently. “And it wasn’t like people pulled their hair. Renly had a broken nose and more than one black eye. And Loras got his fair share, too. Those were all _but_ trivialities.”

“Oh, now don’t look so sour. You know how I mean it. I know that it wasn’t nice what some folks did, but in the end, we were a class, and I always found it a pity that it broke apart so quickly once we graduated,” the woman in orange chiffon dress replies. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“It wasn’t just _not nice_ , it was violent what _some folks_ did to Renly and Loras,” Brienne retorts, clenching her fists.

Is it okay to backhand her by any chance?

“Calm down, Brienne,” the woman argues peaceably. “I don’t mean to make you upset or so, or defend the folks who did it in the past.”

“Just that you do,” Brienne huffs.

“Look, I don’t want to fight. I am glad that you came,” she tells Brienne, rubbing her arm once, making the tall blonde woman frown only more. “I will see you later, hopefully.”

And with that she disappears. Brienne puckers her lips. She expected that, but it still stings that some people never seem to change.

However, she is pulled out of her thoughts when she hears way more familiar voices and laughter, making the small hairs stand upright.

“Brienne the Beauty!”

She sucks in much needed air as the band of idiots walks up to her.

“Now look at you. Seems you give the name a reason at last,” one of them winks at her. “I hope you didn’t take it in a bad way, with the little joke we played.”

Brienne puckers her lips, “Why should I take offence in a bunch of guys setting me up on a fake blind date by any chance? It was such a lovely joke after all. I could laugh just thinking about it.”

“Oh, c’mon, Blue Eyes. It’s always been just a tease. Had you not run off, we would have bought you a beer and we all would have laughed about this by the end of the night,” another argues.

“Oh, I bet _you_ laughed about this by the end of the night, possibly longer,” Brienne snorts dismissively.

“That you always have to take things so seriously. That’s always been the issue. We were just making a bit of fun, but you always took offence in it. You know, showing a bit of sense of humour would make things a lot easier for you,” the first one argues.

“Oh yes, those who get bullied should just better laugh at it. Then the bullies wouldn’t have to deal with, the Gods forbid, their conscience,” Brienne retorts.

“That’s just what I mean. You are still so tensed up, Brienne. We were making fun back then,” he argues.

“You had fun at our expenses,” she corrects him. “Because I didn’t find it funny to be humiliated during the prom, just like I didn’t find it funny that you made bets about who’d get to have sex with _the Beast_ first. Just like Loras and Renly didn’t find it funny to get beaten up. Or like they were called names and had words smeared on their lockers. Just like Margaery didn’t enjoy it what you hollered at her for not outing Renly by dating him. If you didn’t get that until now, you really never got out of High School.”

“Oh, c’mon. You can’t tell me that this is still the thing. It’s been _years_!” he argues.

“That you set me up on a fake blind date with Hyle happened not long ago, I may remind you,” she retorts.

“Do we have a problem here, sweetheart?”

The men frown as Jaime, dressed in the finest Armani tuxedo that money can buy, looking like someone who just landed with a jet after he had a photoshoot for the Vogue, takes his stance next to Brienne, snaking his hand around her hip, after he handed her a cup of punch.

“And you fellows are?” Jaime looks at them.

“Those are the High School _friends_ I told you about,” Brienne replies, self-consciousness returning to her at once.

Because she has support.

She is not alone with this.

She is not alone.

“Oh, and here I thought it was those arses who set you up on that blind date,” he frowns.

“They are,” Brienne shrugs.

“Oh,” Jaime nods slowly, but then extends his hand to the leader of the troupe, takes it, and squeezes _very_ tightly. “I owe you my thanks.”

“What?” the man blinks, wincing at the iron grip Jaime has on his hand.

“If not for you, I wouldn’t have met this gemstone here,” Jaime replies, holding Brienne a little closer to him. “So really, I can only thank you that you pretty much pushed her into my arms.”

“What?” Hyle speaks up at last. Jaime tilts his head at him, “Well, after she ran out of the restaurant, she ran into me. So… I can only thank you that you made that happen.”

He lets go of the man, pulling Brienne closer to himself once more, the affection and the bit of possessiveness visible in his features.

“Hey, aren’t you the guy from the posters? Lannister, Jaime Lannister?” one of the men asks.

“The one and only,” Jaime agrees.

“Wow, Blue Eyes, who would have guessed that you’d get yourself a millionaire?” the leader chuckles.

“ _Billionaire_ , but who’s playing hypocrite?” Jaime grins.

“My, my, seems that we are right in the end after all. No need to be upset if that’s the outcome, right, Blue Eyes?” the leader grins at Brienne. “This is really funny, thinking about it.”

“You know what’s really funny?” Jaime smiles at him, “No, what?”

“That I have all means in the world to make your lives living hell. It takes me three phone calls to make you lose your job, and dig up whatever small crime you may have committed over the years. One phone call and I know when you had a parking ticket,” Jaime grins at them broadly. “Because I may say that I am quite… protective of my sweetheart. And after what I heard about you, I can’t really say that I like you by any chance. In fact… I’m quite tempted to make you suffer, but my dearest told me that you are not worth it… and after I got to make your acquaintance… I can only agree. C’mon, Blue Eyes. I want to shake the hips a bit.”

Brienne waves over her shoulder as Jaime pulls her away, leaving a bunch of men speechless at last. Jaime pulls her to the dancefloor before Brienne can contemplate on the fact that she doesn’t like dancing at all. He pulls her close, kissing her once, before leaning his forehead against hers to search her eyes with his, “Are you alright?”

“This was more satisfactory than I thought it would be,” she admits. “So… yeah, you get to tell me that you told me so. But did you really have to threaten them?”

Jaime was just supposed to make his appearance and yes, drop a few comments and his apparent wealth. At least that is what Jaime convinced her of before they went, but he never mentioned that he’d go… _that_ far.

“I gave them an outlook,” Jaime argues. “And don’t get me wrong, I already made those phone calls in ages.”

“What? Since when?” Brienne frowns.

“Right the next morning after I first met you,” Jaime shrugs. “No one gets to treat my lady like that without me making sure that there is a way to get them by the balls if opportunity and situation grant it. Just one word, and I will make that phone call, trust me.”

“I trust you,” she replies meekly. “But you don’t have to make that call.”

“ _Yet_ ,” Jaime huffs. “Ah, at last I get my dance with my sweetheart.”

Brienne frowns, realising only just now that they are moving to the music after all. A blush creeps to her cheeks at once.

“So? Aerial dance move next?” Jaime grins. “We could do that _Dirty Dancing_ thing?”

“You try that once and I will be so much dead weight that I will bury you underneath me,” she warns him. “And by the way, I hate that movie.”

“Ah, almost forgot,” Jaime chuckles. “You are not at all into chick flicks.”

They keep close, letting the music rain down, and both, if subconsciously try to pretend that this is the dance they would have had back in High School, had they attended at the same time, at the same school.

The two mostly keep to themselves that evening, though Jaime takes his dear pleasure to put his affection for Brienne to obvious display, running his hand up and down her thigh, whispering in her ear, and the like, earning Brienne some almost jealous glances from a few of the women, and awkward glances from the men who deceived her back in High School.

And it serves them so very right.

“I think it’s time for us to head home. This is rather dull after all,” Jaime sighs, offering his hand to help her up from the chair. Brienne, as always, doesn’t take it, “At last.”

They make their way down the hallways, when suddenly a very drunk, very staggering Hyle almost bumps into them.

“Brienne the Beauty!”

“Hyle.”

“I wanted to ‘pologise for the shit we’ve pulled,” he tells her in a too loud voice. “The blind date thin’.”

“It’s fine,” she tells him. “You should quit the alcohol for the night, though.”

“The lady’s right, so if you’d let us pass,” Jaime tells him in a light voice, tough he can’t keep the annoyance out of it.

“To think that we made bets ‘bout who’d get inside Big Brienne first seems so far away now,” Hyle giggles drunkenly. “’Specially cuz you got yourself a billionaire now. Seems that the misfits can get lucky after all. Is good for you. I always feared that no one would take pity in you, but now someone’s did at last.”

“I did _not_ take pity in her,” Jaime tells him, stressing each syllabus.

“Hm, then maybe you wanted somethin’ exotic. She’s always been the queerest bird of the flock, weren’t you, Blue Eyes?” Hyle looks at her, blinking repeatedly.

“Hyle, you are drunk,” Brienne tells him peaceably, pulling on Jaime’s arm. “We want to head home now, so if you excused us?”

She means to walk past him, but that is when the drunken man grabs her by the arm, “Wait, wait. I always wanted to know why you didn’t fuck me, ye know, back in High School. I mean, I almost had you there. Did she tell you? I had her all the way down to the underwear, but then she’s chickened out last sec. And that though she never chickens outta anythin’.”

Jaime plants himself in front of him threateningly, “I take for granted that you are just dumb and drunk, but one more word from you about her and I will knock your teeth out, understood, fellow?”

“Did she let you fuck her? I always thought she’d stay a virgin outta principle,” Hyle goes on, not seeming to care, even glaring at Jaime as though he was ready to pick a fight. “Did she feel good, hm?”

Jaime already swings his fist to send the man flying… just that the man is sent flying before he gets a chance to. His eyes fall on Brienne, whose arm still stands high in the air after the punch she just delivered. She blinks furiously herself. Brienne didn’t intend on doing it, but that is something that gets her to the point that blind rage takes over, if only for a few seconds of time. But it takes no more for her to throw a punch.

“Still the same,” Hyle giggles, dazes, scrambling on the ground like a fish out of water. “Still the same kinda butch. I guess at some point we never get out of High School.”

Jaime bends down, pulling the man up by the collar, onto which a bit of blood trickled from his split lip, “So now, Shitface. The next comment I hear from you, or the next time you dare approach her, let along touch her, and I will simply kill you, you understand? I. Will. Kill. You. I will take you apart piece for piece – and no one will come looking for you. Do we get each other?”

Hyle blinks at the man who just morphed into a lion.

“Do we?” he demands, pulling tighter on the man’s collar. Hyle manages a small nod.

“That better stays that way,” Jaime warns him. “I told your friends already, and I tell you again: It takes me just one phone call. Though I might make it my personal obligation to do that myself. And trust me, I’m not as nice as I look like. There are few things that get me raging, but little shits like you who think they can treat my girl that way are the kinds of people that get my blood boiling to the point that I could easily snap someone’s neck.”

“S, sorry,” Hyle babbles. Jaime releases him at once, allowing him to crash to the floor again, before he grabs Brienne’s hand and starts to walk away. “Keep that in mind!”

Jaime keeps an iron grip on her hand as he pulls her down the hallways until they are outside and inside the car. Only there he lets go of her and bangs his hands on the steering wheel violently.

“Jaime?” she looks at him.

“Is your hand alright?” he demands.

“Yes, I know how to punch without injuring myself, you know that,” she argues, her frown deepening.

“I’m sorry,” he then says.

“What would you be sorry for?” she frowns.

“I never should have convinced you to come here. I thought it would be good to close this chapter for you, to get some closure, but now that shitface screwed it all up. I should have punched him to pulp, easy as that,” Jaime growls. Brienne extends her hands to take his and stop them from slapping the steering wheel, forcing him to turn to her, “It’s fine.”

“Nothing about this is fine,” Jaime argues.

“It is to me. I have you. I told you that I don’t care about them. They are things from the past,” Brienne tells him. “You were right, though. I should have faced them long ago. Because now they really are just some relicts from the past. I don’t feel scared anymore. I saw all those folks who were just like they were back then, Hyle included. What would upset me about people who are still the same as they were before? They can’t change. That’s what I know now. I changed, that is what matters.”

“You mean that?” Jaime looks at her.

“You know that I can’t lie,” she tells him.

“I mean it, though. Just say a word and that guy is gone,” Jaime grunts.

“And I already told you that I don’t need you to play the prince rescuing the damsel in distress. I can defend myself – and I’m no damsel in distress,” Brienne argues. “Tonight proved it, right?”

“I was honestly caught off-guard for a moment when you sent him flying,” Jaime says, a small smile flashing over his white teeth.

“I was myself,” Brienne admits. “Can we just drive home now?”

“As my lady wishes,” Jaime nods, starting the engine. “But the next guy who dares to call you Blue Eyes gets his teeth knocked out. That is _my_ pet name.”

“I won’t make any guarantees,” Brienne chuckles, leaning back in the seat. “Jaime?”

“Yes?” he asks, his eyes focused on the street.

“The reason why your aim is off when shooting a bow is that you started holding your breath before you let go of the string,” she tells him.

“ _Seriously_? That’s a rookie’s mistake,” Jaime makes a face. “But then again… you just take my breath away.”

“That was not as smooth as you thought it was,” Brienne snorts.

“I found it quite smooth,” Jaime grins.

“You are lucky that you are driving, or else you’d get a punch in the arm right now,” Brienne warns him.

“Why the violence against me?” he mewls. “We could have a lot more fun in the car.”

“Focus on the road,” she replies in a flat voice.

“Oh, c’mon, just a bit. The ride home is _long_ ,” Jaime argues, planting his free hand on her thigh, but Brienne swats his hand off, “Because you were so nice tonight, I warn you not to do that. Because you won’t get your reward if you keep going with that.”

“What? What reward? Why didn’t I hear of my reward yet?” Jaime cries out with feigned urgency. “Tell me more of that reward!”

“Keep your hands to yourself and drive us home safely, then maybe you’ll get it after all,” Brienne grins.

“Who could have guessed, Blue Eyes,” Jaime wiggles his eyebrows at her.

“One more word, and the reward is that you get to do the dishes for a week,” Brienne warns him, folding her long arms over her chest.

“Fine. Fine. But you have to give me a hint at least.”

“No.”

“Yes. Just one.”

“No.”

“C’mon.”

“Red gift bag.”

“You mean… Gods, you are killing me right now, woman.”

“Jaime, stop speeding! We’ll get a ticket or pulled over by police!”

“The hell do I care. You said the code word!”

“Jaime!”


	7. Red the Destroyer

Brienne swings her sword expertly, chuckling as Jaime does his slow-motion attack routine. He is perhaps the most enthusiastic member of the medieval swords club the team has ever seen. Though he proved to be a lot better with the sword than she thought.

Brienne doesn’t like to admit it, but he often ends up winning, despite the fact that she has more training. At some point, a sword on him is like the extension of his arm. It’s as though he and a sword just belong together. His posture changes, the smug smile disappears, and his features are so fierce that you could really mistake him for a knight.

And Brienne could marvel at this for hours, though she would never say that out loud.

She wouldn't ever see the end of it.

“Please stop making those noises with your mouth, Jaime,” she rolls her eyes as he makes whooshing sounds. “You are such a dork sometimes.”

“I’m just preparing for beating your cute arse,” Jaime grins. “And you remember, the game’s still truth or dare.”

She doesn’t know why Jaime insisted on playing this game again. They did that especially in the beginning of their relationship, like they did in the archery range, but now that they are practically glued together, they know each other inside-out, or so Brienne figures. They know the other's favourite films, food, colour, which is blue in both cases, they know family stories, anecdotes. She even knows the name of the imaginary friend he had when he was four years old.

Rufus, by the way. A lion, obviously. 

Just like he knows hers was a crimson-furred beast named Red the Destroyer.

However, today he insisted to play this game again, for some godforsaken reason.

With Jaime, you can never know. One moment, he is crystal clear in his mind, acting more adult than she ever could, and the next... he is a pouting child, a brat out for a tease.

Brienne finds it especially odd because the truth-part of the game is rather pointless, since they even fail to formulate questions without the other instantly coming up with a reply before the question is even finished. The way she reckons, Jaime is out for the dare-part of the game after all, which is why Jaime oftentimes demands a kiss or some other token of affection from her in turn... or to tease her, as always. One time he forced Brienne to pose like one of the models from the magazines.

“Alright, since we have a truce at this point, I would say next point wins,” Jaime says, wiping his free hand over his face to get rid of some beads of sweats threatening to fall into his eyes.

“You just say that because you can’t go on anymore,” Brienne huffs. “But fine, next point wins.”

And so the last round begins. Brienne charges instantly, forcing him into defence. She never holds back in battle, even if it's just for training. Because for Brienne, there is no in-between, there is just nothing or everything. 

Just like she can't give only a part of her heart, but all of it.

“Crackers. Someone wants to win this battle quite badly,” Jaime grunts, gaining momentum to deliver a few blows as well, though Brienne parries expertly.

Jaime loves how she can move with the fluidity of water, like a snake, a beautiful snake. And when she wields the sword, she is nothing but glorious. 

The tall woman raises the blunt blade to strike, but that is when Jaime uses a kickboxing move to throw her off balance. Brienne staggers, honestly caught off-guard by the act, but Jaime holds one arm out to catch her before nudging his sword against her shoulder, saying, “Boop.”

Brienne punches him in the arm hard enough to make him shriek, “One day, I swear, you will have to bring me to hospital because you apparently pulverised my shoulder.”

“You can’t just pull a kickboxing move,” Brienne insists, punching him again anyway. “That’s unfair, you jerk.”

“Everything goes, in times of war,” Jaime tells her with a malicious grin. Brienne snorts before taking off the pads they have to wear from protection, grumbling to herself. Jaime takes off the pads as well, chuckling to himself instead, “C’mon, Blue Eyes. Next time you’ll beat me into the dust again, I’m sure.”

“I would have, had you not decided to play dirty,” she argues.

“You haven’t seen me playing dirty yet,” Jaime grins, before he walks up to her to grab her from behind, snaking his arms around her midsection.

He doesn’t expect her to flip him over at once, sending him crashing to the ground, knocking the air out of him, though at some point, he maybe should have. Because Brienne hates defeat.

“Everything goes, in times of war," she tells him with narrowed sapphire eyes. 

Jaime lets out laughter after laughter between the intakes of air, rubbing the sides of his ribcage against the pain, “I guess I had that one coming.”

“You did,” she replies with a small grin, before holding out her hand to him to pull him up.

To the day, Jaime is impressed with what ease she can. He is no lightweight by any means, but Brienne pulls him up as though he was.

Jaime runs his fingers through his hair, “Oh, I almost forgot. Since I won, I get another round of truth or dare.”

"You cheated," she insists.

"Doesn't matter. I won," he argues. "So, what will it be for my lady, truth or dare?"

Brienne narrows her eyes at him, “Dare.”

“Gambler at heart,” Jaime chuckles.

“So? What am I supposed to do? The chicken dance?” Brienne snorts. “Or no, better, do a _The Godfather_ impression. Or let _you_ flip _me_ over? Or…”

“No,” Jaime grins. “I decide for myself, thank you. Though I will keep those in mind for the next time.”

“Fine, then what?” she asks.

“I want a promise from you,” he goes on.

“Careful now, oaths are not made easily,” Brienne reminds him, suddenly very serious. 

Brienne gives a lot on promises, and she doesn’t vow easily. She believes that people say “I promise” way too often, because they don’t see that a promise is something sacred, something very special that you shouldn’t just give out like a “hello” or “how are you”.

You shouldn’t promise things you know you can’t keep.

And if you promise, you have to try anything to keep your word.

Brienne always tried to live by that paradigm to the best of her abilities – and she told Jaime that she doesn’t ever want him to promise her things he can’t keep, and if he promises, that he has to stick to it till the bitter end. And to her surprise, Jaime understood it, and in fact accepted it, realising just how much it mattered to her.

“I’m well aware of an oath’s implications,” Jaime nods. “So? Will you promise me?”

“Yes, you have my word for it,” Brienne rolls her eyes. “What do I promise you?”

“You will promise me that you will wear this,” Jaime grins, taking her hand and slipping a silver ring with a sapphire in it on her finger. Brienne stares at the ring, then him, then the ring again.

“Is that…?” Brienne looks at him, her eyes opening unnaturally wide.

“If you mean to ask if that is an engagement ring, then yes. And I don’t think I need to ask you for your hand in marriage now by going down on one knee, because you already forced me on the ground by flipping me over - and because you already promised me,” Jaime grins. “After all, you made a vow, Blue Eyes.”

She has her lips pressed on his at once, pulling him closer to her, allowing no inch between themselves, her emotions at such disarray that her mind just stops operating, except for those little orders, to kiss him, to hold him, to love him. Because she could think back to how they met, under what circumstances, and where they stand today. 

This must be a dream at some point, but his lips feel real on her lips, as do the hands on her waist, as does the metal band on her finger.

Once both pull away, out of breath, flushed cheeks, Jaime lets out a laughter, “Ha! And Tyrion said that it wouldn’t work.”

He already means to lean into the next kiss, but Brienne punches him in the arm again.

“Hey! What was that for?!” he cries out.

“For cheating!” she tells him.

“Oh, c’mon!” he exhales. “I’ve been brooding over the perfect proposal in ages. You have no idea how hard it can be to please you outside the realm of the bed at times, Blue Eyes. I carefully planned this into the smallest detail. Not to mention to pick the one ring that would please you – because your taste is not only exotic, but very, very unique. I guess it would have been easier to find the _One Ring to rule them all_. So _excuse_ me that I had to make sure that I win this round of truth or dare.”

“You could have waited until the time you would have won fair and sound,” she snorts. Jaime holds on to her more firmly again, “I don’t want to live another day without knowing you by my side.”

“Gods, that’s corny,” Brienne huffs.

“C’mon, say something nice to me,” he mewls. “I made every effort not to take something conventional – because you are exceptional. Give me some credit.”

Brienne simply leans in for a deep kiss, knowing that words can’t describe the happiness she feels at this very second, for having found someone who understands her so fully well that he chose the one proposal that didn’t leave her in a cliché-ridden moment where he goes on his knees, she is all dressed up, and squeals like a madwoman.

No, this is her, this is him, this is them.

Sword fights.

Always fight.

Always truce.

“I love you,” she breathes against his mouth. “I love you.”

“So is that a yes?” Jaime smiles, holding her close.

“Yes.”

Yes. She promises.


	8. Red Cheeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime drive to the Tarth Residence. 
> 
> Jaime meets Selwyn at last. 
> 
> ... Complications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for sticking around and kudoing and commenting. 
> 
> I hope you'll like it ;)

“… I thought you’d be a lot more shifting in your seat, threatening me, cursing my name, and chewing your thumbnails,” Jaime grins as they are in the car – on the way to meet Brienne’s father at last. 

In fact, before he proposed to Brienne, Jaime thought of how she would try to control everything to the best of her abilities, that she’d give him a list of things he is not supposed to say, do, touch, but in fact… nothing much other than the usual.

And at some point Jaime is not sure if this is a good sign or a bad one.

“Then you thought wrong,” Brienne exhales, looking out the window, twisting and turning the engagement ring around her finger, a habit she developed since Jaime put the ring on her finger, as though she was trying to rub the ring into her skin so that it stays there forever.

“Is everything alright?” he grimaces.

“What? Yeah, why?” she frowns, looking at him.

“As I said, you don’t show the nervous reaction I’d usually see, and fully expected to see,” Jaime replies with a roll of his shoulders. “In fact, you seem rather brooding.”

“I’m not brooding,” she argues. “I’m thinking.”

“All the same,” Jaime huffs.

“What? Aren’t you nervous to meet my father?” Brienne smiles slightly. “Your maybe-soon father-in-law?”

“I can’t imagine that he is worse than _my_ father. And I can only repeat it: People always find me charming,” Jaime replies.

“Loras doesn’t find you charming,” Brienne huffs.

“What? _Of course_ he does. Renly does, Margaery does,” Jaime argues, making a face. “Everyone does. I’m adorable.”

“Loras _tolerates_ you because he is friends with me. That’s a _huge_ difference,” Brienne grins. “So maybe your magic is wearing thin at last.”

“So what? Do you think your father will tear me apart because I did not just take his daughter’s virginity, but also rightly courted her and am to wed her?” Jaime questions.

“You really should leave out the first part if you know what’s good for you,” she warns him with an amused smile.

“Do people still live in the Middle Ages? Yes, couples have sex, and yes, they have sex before they get married. We had sex before we got engaged. Amazing sex. Lots of amazing sex. By the Gods,” Jaime rolls his eyes.

“Eyes on the road,” she tells him. “You should just bear in mind that I’m my father’s only daughter. He is very protective of me. He lost children before. You can’t imagine how hard it was for him to let me go and… spread my wings or whatever. I am the only family he still has. So be a little… careful about him.”

At last, they arrive at the Tarth Residence, which really proves to be a _residence_. Jaime has to blink twice at the old castle-like building, “You said that you are not rich.”

“And we are not very rich. We just inherited this house. It’s been owned by the family for over 300 years,” she shrugs as she looks around. “Of course the house was redone a few times, but they made any effort to keep most things as they originally were.”

“Wow,” Jaime puckers his lips. “At some point it’s really no wonder that you are into medieval life. You are actually a princess from a castle.”

“This is no castle. And I’m no princess,” she tells him as she takes one of the bags from the trunk.

“Now, you are _my_ princess,” Jaime argues as he closes the trunk. “And I’m your knight.”

Brienne rolls her eyes before walking to the front door. Brienne rings the doorbell with her elbow, seemingly something she tends to do out of habit. Jaime tilts his head and waits, but then the huge wooden door opens and a seasoned man with greying hair and also very bright blue eyes, though his are not as bright as Brienne’s, appears.

Of course.

“Brienne!”

“Dad!”

He pulls her close and Jaime can’t help but muse at that. He can’t remember his father to ever having done that.

In fact, he knows that he never did.

Jaime just tends to forget that not all people are as screwed-up and emotionally crippled as his clan.

“Dad? May I introduce you? This is Jaime. Jaime, that’s my dad, Selwyn,” Brienne says, looking between the two.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I have only heard the best about you, Sir,” Jaime says, holding out his hand to the other man.

“Pleasure,” is the court reply, followed by a short shake of hands. Jaime frowns. He honestly hoped for a warmer first meeting.

Maybe he is losing his touch after all.

“Shall we go inside?” Brienne asks nervously.

And so Jaime and Brienne find themselves in the rather luxurious living room, full of antiquities, Brienne toying with the hem of her blouse, while Jaime does his best pretending that he is taking in all the antiquities, in detail.

And Brienne’s father just keeps studying them.

“So… you are the son of Tywin Lannister,” Selwyn begins.

“That is correct, Sir,” Jaime nods.

“Is it right that you will take over the business one day?” Selwyn goes on.

“Uhm, I don’t hope so, actually, though my father would surely like to see that. I am well settled with handling matters of PR and the like. If my Father was smart, he’d give it over to my younger brother. He is more intelligent than my sister and I combined,” Jaime replies.

“You see, Jaime, it is alright if I call you Jaime?” Selwyn looks at him.

“Jaime is more than fine,” the young man replies quickly.

“ _Jaime_. I’m a man of tradition. And I’m a man who holds the family as one of the highest goods, if not _the_ highest good,” Brienne’s father goes on.

“Just like I do. And it’s not that I don’t take pride in my family’s heritage or so, it’s just that I know my capabilities, and that they are put to better use if I… _serve_ the company instead of _running_ it. That is all,” Jaime shrugs.

“But Jaime is really devoted to his job,” Brienne jumps in.

“Oh, I am certain of that,” Selwyn shrugs. “I’ve heard about just how devoted the Lannisters are to their Empire.”

“Dad? Is something wrong? I told you about Jaime when I started a relationship with him. I told you a lot about him already, so you don’t have to do the whole bad cop routine,” Brienne argues, honestly fed up with her father’s behaviour. Not that she expected him to just take the news, but she hoped that he wouldn’t instantly bring up business.

“I have just one question for you, Jaime,” the older man goes on, unimpressed.

“Well, I hope I come to have the right answer,” Jaime replies with a small, strangled laughter.

“You do know that if you ask for someone’s daughter in marriage, the first step is actually to ask the father for his daughter’s hand?”

“DAD!” Brienne cries out, burying her head in her hands, blushed to the point that Jaime can see the blush in her neck.

That had to come.

By the Gods!

“What? You tell me you are together with someone you deem honourable enough – and then the next message I get is that you are engaged with that man and that you, at last introduce me to him – only _after_ the proposal already took place,” Selwyn argues, and Jaime finds a spell suddenly broken, as the man seems to soften and warm up the person he envisioned.

“I didn’t bring him here because you would have probed him about these matters upon hello,” Brienne retorts. “The last time proved it. The guy was not past the door and you already asked him if we intended on having children soon.”

“That was once,” he argues vehemently.

“And the other one you asked if his future plans included marriage, since it is something you value _so_ much. We didn’t even have tea by then,” Brienne goes on.

“I told you so many times already, Brienne, I am a man of tradition,” Selwyn insists.

“And that would be fine, if you didn’t pull the marriage or pregnancy card after you know someone for no more than five minutes,” Brienne argues vehemently, but then nudges Jaime in the side when she hears him chuckling. “You keep that dumb smile to yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” he laughs, but then gathers himself, turning to Brienne’s father again. “Sir, I know that it may seem a bit rash, and I most definitely thought about asking you about my plans. I decided against it, since I wanted to surprise Brienne. In the retrospective, I most definitely should have talked to you first, though. I accept traditions and I didn’t mean to stomp on any of yours. You can believe me when I say I have the best intentions. I love your daughter dearly and that is why I want to marry her.”

Selwyn looks at him, seemingly contemplating. Jaime licks his lips nervously. But then Selwyn of Tarth rises from his seat. Jaime stands up out of reflex. He almost jumps when the man embraces him, very tightly.

“Then I’d say welcome to the family, Jaime.”

The father pulls closer to his ear so that only he can hear, “But if you hurt my daughter _once_ , I swear by the Gods, I will find you, I will haunt you, and I will kill you. My daughter is not the only one who is into weapons, and believe me when I say that I know how to use them.”

“Understood, Sir,” Jaime mutters, curling his lips uncertainly, honestly intimidated.

“Splendid. Then this is clarified,” Selwyn claps his hands with a big smile. “How about some tea and biscuits?”

“Fantastic idea,” Jaime agrees, grasping Brienne's hand almost desperately. 

“Then let me show you to the dining room,” Selwyn says, walking ahead. Jaime leans over to Brienne, pressing her palm even tighter, “Never leave me alone with him.”

Brienne claps him on the shoulder with her free hand, “Oh, be brave. He gave that speech to anyone I ever dated.”

“It was pretty convincing.”

“Oh, it is. Because he means it a hundred percent. He keeps his oaths like I do. Where do you think did I get it from?”

“You mean…?”

“You heard him. You better don’t ever hurt me, or else he will hurt you. A lot, but if it’s unjust on his side, be sure I will protect you from him.”

Jaime blinks as they proceed into the dining room, hoping that the tea will somehow soothe his nerves.

* * *

 

Later the day, Brienne and Jaime finally find a good enough excuse to go to Brienne’s room, and escape more probing questions from her father, though Jaime feels more and more certain that Selwyn is more than a good man at heart who just wants to know his only child protected.

Jaime plops down on her bed, glancing around. He already expected anything but a girl’s room, but this looks almost like his room when he was still younger. The only thing that looks slightly feminine might be the canopy bed. And what makes this broom entirely Brienne is the blue wallpaper. 

Jaime lets his eyes wander, honestly amazed at the sheer number of self-built wooden swords, longbows, and a bunch of prizes she won in sports. 

At least some credit she got when still younger.

“So, I think we took the first hurdle,” Jaime chuckles.

“That my father didn’t kill you right away is surely a good sign,” Brienne sighs, looking exhausted. “I don’t even want to think about telling _your_ father.”

“You know that he approves our relationship,” Jaime argues. "Already because of Cersei and me."

“I know from Tyrion that he can easily change his mind,” Brienne snorts.

“Now, now, don’t look so sour,” Jaime grins at her smugly. “Come here.”

“Jaime,” she warns him, but he already pulls her over by the hand and into his lap. Brienne squirms against him, but he forces his lips on hers.

“You had to wear this sexy outfit, don’t blame me.”

“This is casual wear.”

“A skirt is casual wear - for you of all people? Blue Eyes, you are an awful liar, how many times do I have to tell you?"

“A bit more than casual, fine, but… STOP,” she barks as his hands start to wander over her body. 

“C’mon, this is definitely turning on. This is almost as good as having some fun while the parents sleep in the next room,” Jaime goes on teasing her, running his fingers up and down her body, forcing more and more blood to climb to Brienne’s face, painting her a glowing shade of crimson.

Jaime loves her red cheeks.

“I never did that,” she argues.

“Ever the more a reason to give it a try,” he grins, kissing her neck.

“No,” she argues.

“You would have punched me already if you didn’t want for this to happen in some way,” Jaime smiles at her.

He deserves the blow that follows, though he still keeps her on his lap.

Jaime does wonder how often he will have to convince Brienne just how crazy she drives him with her sexiness until she believes it, though at some point, a part of her sexiness is that she doesn’t see it, that he has to tease it out of her.

Jaime kisses her again, knowing where to touch, where to squeeze, to kiss, to make her melt flush against him. He already means to pull her back on bed to explore a little more, when suddenly the door opens. Brienne jumps like a cricket, landing on the ground unceremoniously, eyes wide as an old-looking woman comes inside.

“Septa Roelle,” Brienne breathes, running her free hand over her face, trying to wipe the blush away. Jaime cranes his neck, not liking the sound of that name. Brienne told him some awful childhood stories about that woman, about how she told her how ugly she was, and that no man would ever really care about her for her own sake, would love her for who she is, and for how she looks like.

“Brienne, it’s been quite some time,” she says, her voice cold as ice.

“In fact. I…,” Brienne blinks, eyes still wide.

“And that is your betrothed?” she cocks an eyebrow at Jaime.

“Yes, uhm, that is Jaime Lannister, right,” Brienne nods frantically, finally gathering her wits to scramble back to her feet.

“Pleasure, Sir,” she says, nodding at him respectfully.

"The pleasure is on my side," Jaime replies, though the mixed feelings are still written all over his face.

“Well, I think you still need to… unpack," she grimaces, but then turns to Brienne with a lecturing tone. "Just keep in mind that this is an honourable, proud household you were raised in.”

She looks at Brienne sternly.

“A good day, you two.”

She closes the door again, leaving Jaime and Brienne stunned. For a moment, the young man thinks Brienne will just end up crying now, but instead she flips down on the bed with her upper body, her long legs dangling over the edge, burying her face with her hands. Jaime copies her posture, though he leaves his hands folded on his stomach, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think we’d be interrupted by… your septa.”

"I should've known. I mean, Father kept her around because she has served the family for so long. She is practically... a part of the family," Brienne grimaces. "But I understood it that she'd only be here later the day. And now she... oh, by the Gods."

"We still had clothes on, Brienne," Jaime argues, which only earns him a deep growl.

“Everything was working so well. And it takes one moment for me to be right back in childhood,” Brienne sighs. “Fearing my septa.”

“If she wants to live in the Middle Ages, let her,” Jaime argues. “You are definitely no longer a child, Blue Eyes. And that’s nothing to be ashamed of. And in any case, the next time you see her, shove that wonderful ring right in her face and prove her wrong. Because you wear that because it’s the opposite of all she’s ever told you.”

He rolls over to kiss her lips, though her hands remain over her eyes. Jaime leans his forehead against her palms.

Jaime kisses the corner of her mouth as he pulls away slightly. Brienne pulls her hands away slowly, her sapphire eyes instantly exploding against his gaze, the blush still fading away from her freckled cheeks.

“Already having doubts, my dear princess?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Though I think it might be better if you slept in the guest room.”

“You can’t do that to me. I can’t even sleep without you snoring into my ear and pushing your cute arse against my stomach when you try to curl in on yourself ever since we started dating. Do you want me to suffer from insomnia that badly? How dare you?”

“You steal the blanket all the time.”

“Hey, I don’t complain. You know that I love it when you press against me in whatever the way.”

“Stop.”

“Just keep in mind that your father doesn’t hate me completely. We’ve taken the first hurdle leading to you walking down the isle, and _me_ looking stunning in my wedding suit.”

Brienne sighs, leaning her head back again. Jaime leans back as well, though he tilts his head to the side to look at her.

And how wrong Septa Roelle is, he thinks to himself.

Who could _not_ want her if only for that view?

For that wonderful red blush on her cheeks?


End file.
